


Half-Agony, Half-Hope

by anignoranthistorian



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: But you can't go from shoveling coal on a steamship to engaged to a debutante, F/M, I'll let you guys know, I'm Sorry, Shirbert, Take Notice Board, Throwing in some under appreciated Austen for laughs, and then you can come for me and my historically accurate moral high ground, if she was a debutante she wouldn't have a job, not in the 1890s, there might even be some making of love, there's no Winifred because that made no historical sense, things are going to get lovey dovey, this storyline really worked me up, was she even a debutante? do we have any conception of class here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:48:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 67,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23520331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anignoranthistorian/pseuds/anignoranthistorian
Summary: “So you’re suggesting I post?” He breathed.It really is the loveliest, most splendid chin…“You should… you should post only exactly what you feel.”The idea is simple: Anne couldn't bring herself to mention Ruby by name when explaining the take notice board to Gilbert. A little omission leads to a little hope...
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 364
Kudos: 530





	1. Soul-Piercing

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all you cool cats and kittens,
> 
> I'm new here, but this seems like such a lovely, active community :) I thought I would throw my hat in the ring as I'm bored to death waiting for grad school to start.  
> My advice to you: don't take a gap year. Or two.  
> If you feel like it, let me know what you think!
> 
> All the best!

Anne had decided long ago that if friendship ever came her way, she would be impeccably loyal. She remembered the time, years ago, in Story Club, when Diana had found a book of her father’s which laid out the evolving role of the English peerage.

“I, Anne, do become your liege-woman of life and limb,” she had sworn to Cole, Diana, and Ruby in turn, like a countess in her own right at a new queen’s coronation. “And of Earthly worship: and faith and truth I will bear unto you to live and die against all manner of folks, so help me God.”

The others had giggled through their oaths, but Anne had insisted on solemnity. She meant to keep her promise to her friends, and looking at Ruby now, Anne felt it her duty to stand up for her, even if it meant dying of embarrassment at the hands of Gilbert Blythe.

She had sworn all manner of folks, after all.

Taking one last look and seeing the desperation on Ruby’s face, Anne rose and crossed the room, positioning herself directly in front of Gilbert.

“Good morning,” he said, bemused.

“Morning!” She replied, a bit too loudly, a bit clipped. His eyebrows rose in anticipation, a smirk taking its place across his face. She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eyes, so she settled on his chin. She would not be thwarted. “I’m not sure you’re aware, but the old ‘take notice’ board is active again.”

“Take notice?” She let out a small sigh. She had hopped he’d at least known about the board. Instead she would have to explain to him the entire concept! And still, she would have to push him to post!

“Yes, of someone. As in, you post on the board when you want someone to know you’ve ‘taken notice.’ It’s a way to make a casual declaration, a quiet attention…”

“To someone you like?”

“Yes, but not so pointed as to be alarming… and not so vague as to be misunderstood.”

He had a faraway look on his face. “A post in advance of a proper advance,” he said quietly. Anne swallowed hard, quickly realizing that his chin had not been a good place to rest her attention.

Really, she thought. Such a lovely chin.

“Exactly. Because all these little notices matter when you want to let someone know that you’re thinking ahead,” she carefully explained.

“To their future together?” His voice was lower and breathier.

“Yes,” she was surprised to hear her own voice had taken on a similar cadence.

“So you’re suggesting I post?” He breathed.

It really is the loveliest, most splendid chin…

“You should… you should post only exactly what you feel.”

His eyes widened and he nodded vaguely.

She turned away, her breath caught, worried over what she had done. Anne barely comprehended as Ruby nearly sang of the romance in Gilbert’s eyes. She certainly didn’t hear the lesson and her thoughts darted wildly, trying to alleviate her own conscience. Part of her knew, had always known, that Gilbert did not reciprocate Ruby’s feelings…perhaps this could be a good thing. Whoever it was Gilbert had taken notice of, it wouldn’t be Ruby. She would finally see, in no uncertain terms, that it was time to move on.

But poor Ruby…

As the school day came to a close Anne watched Gilbert from the corner of her eye. Mercifully, he had packed away his pen and paper. If he was posting, it wouldn’t be now.

———

Anne and Diana walked side by side in silence for several minutes. A few of the boys ran past them, Tillie and Ruby had taken their fork in the path and were off to their own homes. And still,

Diana gave it a few more moments before she broached the subject.

But still, it was Anne who spoke first. “I’m so wretchedly torn, Diana.”

“Anne, you’re going to have to tell me what you actually said for me to give any opinion,” Diana pointed out.

“You’ll think so poorly of me…” Anne groaned.

“You’ll never know unless you tell me,” Diana said with a firm nod.

“Alright. Step one was explaining to that boy what a take notice board is actually for,” Anne rolled her eyes.

“And what exactly did you tell him is the point of the board?” Diana demanded.

“‘A post in advance of a proper advance,’” Anne recited.

“Poetic,” Diana deadpanned. “And what did Gilbert say?”

“Just,” Anne bit her lip. “Just if I thought he should post.”

“Okay, tell me exactly what you said. Word for word, Anne. I mean it.”

Anne stopped in her tracks. “‘I think you should post only exactly what you feel.” A silence hung between the two girls for a moment.

“Oh, Anne…” Diana finally said. “And that look on his face… he’s feeling something!” She exclaimed.

Anne felt ashamed when she spoke next. “Whatever he’s feeling, it’s not for Ruby.”

Diana pursed her lips. “We’ve known that a long time now.”

“For a moment at school, I actually thought, maybe this could be a kindness? He’ll post for someone else and it will finally get through to her. But at the start of a school day? With everyone else around to see her reaction? Perhaps we could… we could go see Bash! Maybe he could talk Gilbert out of posting-“

Diana took her friend’s hands. “It was always going to happen,” Diana said firmly. “There’s nothing loyal or kind about delaying the inevitable.”

“You think we should let it happen?” Anne replied quietly.

“This time next year, Ruby will be living in a boarding house in Charlottetown, with visiting hours for suitors and new people all around her… she shouldn’t carry this flame for Gilbert into womanhood. And I don’t think it’s heartless to say so!” She said, having taken in Anne’s expression.

“I feel as though we’re throwing Ruby to the wolves!”

Diana had no real response for this, so they walked along quietly a few minutes more until it came time to go their separate ways. As they made their goodbyes, Diana said: “At least this time tomorrow, we’ll finally know for sure Gilbert has feelings for you.”

Anne experienced a sensation something like being thrown off a horse. Diana had already skipped halfway down her path when Anne had gathered herself enough to call out: “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“But I do!” Came Diana’s reply. “I very much do!”

———

Anne’s evening was spent in much the same way as her day: in a state of dazed confusion. She was relieved when it finally came time for bed, but could hardly believe the prayer that fell off her lips.

“Dear Gracious, Heavenly Father,” she began. “Please let Gilbert actually write what he means. And please don’t let Ruby hurt too badly over it. And please give me the strength to face whatever comes.”

What was she even playing at? What did she even mean?

She tossed and turned all night long, waking late and cursing herself for it: she had meant to be the first one to school. When she arrived in the schoolyard, all of the students were gathered around the take notice board, just as they had been every morning that week. But something was different. They were all huddled closer, many on their tip toes to get a better look.

“What’s going on?” Anne said to Tillie, who was on the far edge of the pile of adolescents.

“Gilbert’s finally posted,” she said in a loud whisper. “But it doesn’t make any sense.”

Anne pushed her way through, coming to stand in front of the board.

“‘You pierce my soul. I am half-agony, half-hope… I have loved none but you.’

-Jane Austen, Persuasion  
and Gilbert Blythe”

Anne didn’t understand what it meant, either. “Where’s Gilbert?”

But “Where’s Ruby?” was on everyone else’s lips. They all turned then to see the small blonde girl marching into the school house. They chased after her, all seeming to intuitively know that something at least interesting was about to happen.

Ruby had found Gilbert, nose in a newspaper.

“That wasn’t a proper notice, Gilbert,” she said harshly. He looked up from the article he was reading, eyebrows furrowed. “I didn’t even know what it meant.”

“I’m sorry, Ruby. Hopefully the girl I posted for will know.”

“What does that mean?” She demanded.

“What?”

“What do you mean? Who else, other than me, should know what it means?”

“Um….”

“Is this to say…. is this to say you don’t care for me, Gilbert?” Tears were beginning to fill her eyes. Diana began to take a step forward on the pretense of comforting her friend, but Miss Stacy grabbed her wrist to hold her back. Everyone knew that this had to play out without interruption.

“I do care for you, Ruby. I want good things for you. Only good things,” Gilbert said gently.

“But I don’t…I don’t… pierce your soul?”

Ruby gave him a moment to respond, but he stayed silent. Then her shoulders slouched and the girl wept.

Her friends all gathered round her and Miss Stacy lead her into the supply room. For a minute or two, the only sounds in the schoolhouse were the muffled sobs.

After about a quarter of an hour, Miss Stacy rejoined the rest of the class, announcing that Ruby wasn’t feeling well and would be headed back home for the day. She began the lesson, but had little chance of holding her students’ attention.

“Does your father have a copy of Persuasion in his library?” Anne muttered to Diana.

“We’ll check as soon as school is out,” the brunette whispered back.

As Miss Stacy dismissed her class for the day, the two best friends were the first ones out the doors.

“Anne? Anne!” She heard a voice call from behind her. Anne turned, running backwards and calling back to Gilbert.

“I’m sorry, but you’ve been too cryptic for your own good! We must go and investigate immediately!” And she was off again.

Gilbert sighed, the copy of Austen’s complete works in his hands, ready to be shown to the one who pierced his soul.


	2. Chapter 2

"It's not here!" Diana hissed. "All he has is Pride and Prejudice and Emma!"

"I wish my name was Emma," Anne said with a sigh as she slumped to the ground. "Emma was an Anglo-Saxon queen, and it just sounds so lovely."

"And Anne was a queen regnant."

"Don't remind me of poor Queen Anne!" The redhead exclaimed. "My tragical namesake. Sixteen children she bore and not one survived! Sometimes I think the only way she was able to endure it was with the knowledge that she was Anne with an E."

"I don't understand what you're saying right now, but maybe we should put our heads together and consider where we could find a copy of this book."

"Do you think Miss Stacy would have a copy?"

"I don't think we should tell Miss Stacy we're looking for a copy of the book Gilbert quoted. Surely she's seen his notice!"

"Do you think she reads them?"

"I would read them," Diana said simply. "Wouldn't you?"

"Imagine being a teacher, you could bring young souls together..." Anne said wistfully.

"Yes, but I get the impression Miss Stacy thinks it distracts us from our lessons, which is true enough. But perhaps there's someone else. Someone willing to help in matters of the heart..."  
The two girls gave each other a knowing look and said at once: "Aunt Jo."

\---

The girls charged up the stairs. "It's in here!" Diana called as she swung open her wardrobe doors. "Aunt Jo calls this 'The Fund for the Abandonment of Small Minds.'"

Anne grinned at their good fortune. "And there'll be enough for a return journey for both of us?"

"And for lunch!"

The two girls laughed.

"Now all that's left is to convince Marilla," Anne said with a sigh.

"Well," Diana said carefully. "Have you considered NOT asking her?"

"Oh, Diana, you are wickedly clever," Anne said with a conspiratorial grin.

And so it was with this notion in mind that Anne found herself in the barn an hour later, hat in her hands, ready to bear all to Matthew.

"So you see the Barrys have gotten an urgent telegram from Aunt Josephine saying they must come at once. Diana is so frightened it's bad news, she doesn't think she can face it without her bosom friend by her side. So you see, Matthew, it's imperative that I go to Charlottetown tonight to uphold the oath I made to my dearest Diana so many years ago, or face my own shame and God's wrath for making a false vow."

Matthew shifted on his feet uncomfortably. "Well I don't see why not, but this is really the sort of thing you should talk to Marilla-"

"Oh, but Marilla never lets me do things on such a whim. And this can't wait! You're just as much my parent as Marilla. Please, Matthew, please give me your permission to go."

"Oh all right. But you best stay with the Barrys the whole time you're gone, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Anne said with a grin. She didn't even have to lie: she certainly would have at least one Barry by her side throughout the entirety of this adventure.

"Now Marilla is out visiting with Rachel. You should pack your bag quick as you like and be on your way."

With a quick kiss on his cheek, she sprinted for her room, and soon enough both girls were aboard a train bound for the city.

\---

"Could there really be no one home?" The girls had taken turns knocking on the door until their knuckles hurt. "I don't understand: where's Rollins?"

"Perhaps... perhaps they don't hear us knocking over the sound of the wind?" Diana ventured. It was true, the day had turned blustry. Wuthering, Anne thought to herself with a small grin. "We have to go somewhere, it's getting quite dark and cold..."

"We'll have to find another way in," Anne announced.

A few minutes later and the girls were stacked one on top of the other, Diana standing on Anne's back to reach a first story window.

"I think I've nearly got it!" She called down.

"Hey! You there!" Diana tumbled down as a man in a dark blue coat came bounding for them.

"Uh-oh," Anne muttered before gathering her senses. "Diana, get up and run!" But too little, too late. The constable snatched them both up, a rough hand on each of their arms as he pulled them across the yard to march them down the street.

Both girls were shouting over one another. "My aunt!" "We're welcome there!" "Are you really allowed to drag us along like this?" The man then came to such an abrupt stop that the girls nearly tumbled over again.

"Miss Barry," he called to the tall woman down the road. "I found these children outside your home, attempting to break and enter!"

For a woman of her years, Josephine was rather quick on her feet. "Yes, these children belong to me. I'll thank you to be on your way." With this she brushed his hands off the girls' arms and pulled them along in a similar fashion. "You're rather young to be having run-ins with the law, but a first is a first, so we'll go in and celebrate and you two can tell me why you've risked infamy."

"It was in the pursuit of knowledge, Aunt Jo!" said Anne.

"Hmm. And Diana, your perspective?"

"It was in the pursuit of romance!"

"And surely the truth lies somewhere in between," Aunt Jo said and she unlocked her door, throwing it wide for the girls to enter. "Lead on."

\---

"There's certainly a copy of it somewhere in here, I'm sure. But why did you have to come bounding across the island tonight to find it?" Aunt Jo sat perched on her favorite chaise lounge as the two girls climbed ladders and paced the library, searching for the precious tome.

"Because knowing what it all means is valuable!" Anne called from atop a step stool.

"Yes, but why?" Jo calmly asked.

"Because it's Gilbert Blythe," Diana said with a snicker.

"You take that back, Diana!"

"We wouldn't be here if it was one of the Pauls who posted that nonsense!"

"I'll need a quick course on Gilbert Blythe," Aunt Jo said as Rollins poured her tea.

"Gilbert Blythe!" A male voice called from the entryway.

"Cole!" Anne leaped down and immediately made her way to him, arms open for a hug.

"Yes, it's me, but more importantly: Gilbert Blythe?!"

"Yes, fine. We will teach you all about the wonderous Gilbert Blythe." The four gathered around the Library's fire. "They've put up a 'take notice' board at the Avonlea school," Anne began.

"People post little messages to classmates they may be... interested in knowing better." Cole wiggled his eyebrows at Aunt Josephine. "Oh, you stop that!" Anne chastised, but Diana giggled.

"You're all wicked, but I'll carry on. Gilbert Blythe -- an average boy, just another classmate-" Both Cole and Diana sneered at this.

"So not at all average?" Aunt Jo asked the two.

"Above average in looks," Cole clarified.

"And supposedly possessed of greater emotional intelligence than the rest of the boys, but that's neither here nor there," Diana added. Jo nodded in understanding.

"And he's completely gone over our Anne," Cole finished.

"Is he, really?"

"He most certainly is not!" Anne replied. She could feel her temper flaring. "He is just a boy who posted a quote from an Austen book, and we've come to see that book to make sense of it."

"What was the quote?" Cole asked.

"Something about piercing the soul, and loving none but you," Diana replied. Cole's eyes widened.

"Is that from Pursuassion?"

"It is," Anne sniffed.

"I know exactly why he chose that quote!" And the boy was up, headed out of the Library. They could hear him taking the steps two at a time. A couple of minutes later and he was back, book in hand. "You know the star of Pride and Prejudice is Lizzie Bennett, and Elinor and Marianne are the moon and sun in Sense and Sensibility, but Anne Elliot is the heroine of Persuasion. Anne with an E."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How sweet, I know... but has anyone ever read Austen's description of Anne Elliot?? Well, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert sure will, and let's be clear: it's not a perfect metaphor. 
> 
> Your comments and kindness are so appreciated :)
> 
> All the best!


	3. Chapter 3

“It really is romantic,” Cole began to say, but Anne barely heard him as she found herself horrified by what she read and subsequently venturing perilously close to the depths of despair.

“‘…but Anne, with an elegance of mind and sweetness of character, which must have placed her high with any people of real understanding, was nobody with either father or sister; her word had no weight, her convenience was always to give way— she was only Anne… A few years before, Anne Elliot had been a very pretty girl, but her bloom had vanished early!’ It’s enough to make me sob!”

“At the end, it’s very tender—“

“But her bloom had vanished early!” Anne repeated loudly, lashing out at her friend. “I always thought myself to be homely,” she said quietly now. “But to have it confirmed in such a way that… that he thinks so, too…”

Aunt Josephine came and placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Oh, child. It’s not so bad as all that. Surely he knew you were a fan of Austen, and he seized the opportunity to make his affections known. He must have thought he was clever. It doesn’t mean he thinks every word Austen chose for her Anne Elliot will apply to our Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.”

“But how am I to know which ones apply and which do not?” Anne muttered, face buried in her hands.

“Well, you could ask him,” Josephine suggested. “Besides: I thought you considered him a thoroughly average boy.”

Anne looked up with that. “Aunt Josephine, I thought you knew me better than to lock me in to something I said while I was in a temper.” The woman laughed. “I suppose…or perhaps… oh, I’d hoped I’d never see this day!”

“This day?” Cole prompted.

“The day I had to admit I don’t completely… loathe Gilbert Blythe.”

Diana grinned, wrapping her arms around her friend. “Could it be that you don’t loathe him at all?” She inquired.

“It could! It really could be!”

Cole took his seat across from the girls. “Could it be you quite enjoy his company?”

Anne put a hand to her cheek, horrified at this new understanding. “Yes, it could!”

“And, correct me if I’m wrong, Anne, but could you possibly have feelings that run deeper than even that?” Diana said, holding her friend tighter.

Anne felt her stomach knot and longed to run away.

“But how could he have been so perfectly stupid to pick an ugly heroine! And to think, he could have compared my eyes to Elizabeth Bennett’s!”

“And then you’d be here complaining that he chose a heroine who was ‘not so handsome as to tempt me,’” Aunt Jo said cooly. “And how could he be so stupid, you ask? Why, he can’t be more than 18, and that’s all it takes.”

“Romeo was 17!” Anne countered.

“And Juliet, 13. When you think about it, that hardly makes them the romance of the millennia.”

Anne bit her lip as she considered this.

“‘I can listen no longer in silence,’” Cole called loudly from across, book open in his hands. “‘I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are not gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed.’”

“Oh, my,” Diana said from beside Anne. “That’s very passionate, indeed!”

Anne sat in shock, but managed to say: “Yes, of course it’s passionate! It’s Austen!”

“And Gilbert Blythe,” Diana said quietly. “Remember the notice? ‘Jane Austen, Persuasion and Gilbert Blythe.’ He says her words are his.”

“And this is the hero to the heroine?” Aunt Jo questioned.

“It is,” Cole said solemnly.

Anne slumped down on the couch, her eyes locked on the ceiling. “I think that Gilbert Blythe might be in love with me,” she said finally. The others roared with laughter. “This isn’t funny! What am I supposed to do?”

The three fell silent. “Love him and be happy?” Cole finally ventured.

“Do you think I love him?” Anne whispered to the trio. They all shared a look.

“You weren’t able to mention Ruby when you explained the Take Notice board,” Diana pointed out.

“Yes, but… that could be some sort of infatuation, perhaps-“

Cole snorted in ridicule of the idea. “You’re not infatuated with him, you can barely admit you don’t hate him.”

“Still: it’s a long road from not wanting to lose a boy to someone else and love.”

“Is it?” Josephine questioned. “Why, how strange it sounds coming out of your mouth, my dear. You’re usually so quick to love. Why should this be different?”

“What is there for you to not love about Gilbert?” Diana asked.

“It shouldn’t be that way-“

“But maybe it is? Gilbert is kind and handsome — hush, you know he is!— he cares for people deeply. He’s quick to love, too. I’ve known him all my life, I’ve never seen him forsake a friend or a loved one. He loves, and then that’s it. What a remarkable trait for a person to have! And you have it, too, Anne,” Diana said all of this very gently, as though trying not shock. “Perhaps all it takes is deciding you do love him, and all will be said and done.”  
Anne’s eyes went wide at this. “How terrifying,” she breathed. “All is said and done and I’m not yet sixteen. I was going to be the Bride of Adventure.”

“I hardly doubt Gilbert Blythe would stop you.”

“You can’t be the Bride of Adventure and the Bride of a Man, a baby on each hip! What if I have three sets of twins!”

“Those would be horrible odds,” Cole smirked. “Isn’t Gilbert going to become a doctor? If anyone had the knowledge to make sure their wife isn’t saddled down with three sets of twins, I would think it would be a doctor.”

“Cole MacKenzie!”

“We must speak openly about these things if young people are to make choices that effect the rest of their lives!” Anne had never heard Diana speak in such a way. “Perhaps, if it ever got to that point, you could speak to Gilbert about those particular fears.”

“I could never talk to Gilbert about something like that!”

“Well, then I suppose you’ll be at risk of twins.”

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Cole, it’s very unbecoming.”

“Alright everyone, that’s enough excitement. It’s time to separate you three like the naughty children you are and send you all straight to bed.”

“Do you actually mean it, Aunt Jo?” Diana asked, bewildered.

“I certainly do,” she said firmly. “Now off to bed to dream up ways to tease the others.”

Anne’s head hit her pillow, but her eyes didn’t close. She wished she had never brought up the twins. All she could see now, in her mind’s eye, were her imaginings of what it took to make a set of twins. Or perhaps there was something to what Cole said… to not make twins. There was a deep horror in conjuring a dark head of curls on the pillow beside her, but an even deeper thrill. Anne pulled herself from the bed then to say her prayers.

“Dear Gracious, Heavenly Father, forgive me for… these thoughts. I don’t know what they are, but I’m sure you think they’re horrid! I have realized I am behind, and that I need to start humbly asking you, please, let me learn a way to not have twins. Or, or even a single baby until I’m old and satisfied with all my adventures! I hope that isn’t such a wicked thing to ask, but I wonder why you would create me with such an adventurous spirit if I was meant to be weighed down by baby after baby? I know you probably can’t do much about Gilbert, so for now, that’s all I really have to say. Wishing you well, yours most sincerely, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, amen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not 100% sure why I'm like this, posting three chapters in one day, but here we are.


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm not getting out of this bed until I've decided what to do," Anne said firmly, propped up on pillows, arms crossed.

"And what if you never decide what to do?" Diana asked, taking a seat at the foot of the bed.

"Then so be it," Anne replied with a huff.

"And what about Matthew? He can't stave off Marilla's wrath for another day."

"I'm not getting out of bed until I've decided what to do, or until 30 minutes before the last train leaves. Whichever comes first."

"I love you dearly, but I've never met someone so impossible. Just make up your mind to love him and we can move onto the business of romantic confessions and caresses filled with longing."

"Diana!"

"All I'm saying is you'll probably like the next bit if you can just get on with it," and with that, the dark-haired girl closed the door, leaving Anne alone with her thoughts. She slumped down into the mattress. 

"'Make up your mind to love him,' as though it works that way!" Anne grumbled. "As though love is something we will ourselves to do! Love must be more than that, or how could anyone stand such an unromantic existence? I don't know how I could go on if love wasn't... a burning look in the eye, filled with pining and... unspoken answers to unspoken questions..." And Anne remembered those eyes. Remembered them years ago, in Charlottetown, filled with grief and uncertainty over his own life, but so kind and compassionate for her own hardship. She remembered them, too, as they stood at the doors of the church after Mary and Bash's wedding. His brother's wedding... he made a brother out of a man from half a world away.

But she didn't remember his eyes from just the day before! Why had she ever decided to look at that stupid, handsome chin! Well, she admitted to herself. It was because whatever she had seen in his eyes had been overwhelming, somehow not appropriate for a schoolhouse. She felt herself shiver at the thought, curling her toes involuntarily. 

_All right, then. Here it goes. I am deciding to love him. I am doing it right now. I am making the decision. It's done now, the moment of decision is in the past. I have decided to love him._

Anne took a deep breath and blinked a few times before trying out a new mantra. 

_I love him, I love him, I love him,_ she ventured, trying out the words like they were a foreign tongue. _I love him because he is good and kind. I love him for his chin and his romantic eyes. I love him because he is steadfast and loyal._

She began to rise from the bed. _I love a kind boy. I love a kind boy. I love a kind boy. Gilbert Blythe is a kind boy, and I love him..._

She could feel the meaning sinking deep into her bones, and she was beginning to see the truth of it all. She started to pace.

_A darling, kind boy who came back home to me. But I've been a real witch to him!_

Anne stopped in her tracks, the reality of it all hitting her hard and fast. She threw open the bedroom door and popped her head out into the corridor. "Aunt Josephine!" She screamed. "Aunt Jo!"

Cole emerged from several doors down. "What is the matter with you? I'd bet there are banshees quieter than this." Anne ignored the comment and instead ran to her friend, taking his hands in her's.

"I have just had the most sensational epiphany, and I fear if I don't find the subject of my newfound adoration, I will have to scream and scream until I am hoarse!"

Cole simply raised an eyebrow at her dramatics. "Alright then. Let's go find Jo and see if she has something you can borrow before we send you on your way."

"Borrow? Why would I need to borrow anything?"

"I've always felt a pinafore is hardly appropriate attire for a declaration of love, and this nightgown is even worse." 

He dragged her along the many corridors of that large house to find an agreeable Jo and a smug Diana. The three poked and prodded, Diana insisting more than once that the corset could be laced a bit tighter.

"That's as far as it goes, Diana," Anne hissed after the third time. Aunt Jo's lady's maid, Laura, moved to pile Anne's hair high on her head while Cole went to choose a hat and gloves. It was Diana who finally yanked her friend in front of mirror, that ever present smirk wider than ever. 

Anne laughed at her reflection. "Why, I look like an actual Gibson Girl! How ridiculous!"

"Gilbert certainly won't think it's ridiculous." A deep blush rose across Anne's face at Diana's words.

"What if he thinks I'm absurd?" Anne breathed.

"I don't think men like Gilbert think that way," Cole replied. "What would he have to complain about? The pretty girl whom he loves, the one he says he has always loved, I should add, has become a beautiful woman. Has come to tell him she loves him, too. He'll see his life flash before his eyes and think he's died and gone to heaven," he finished with a dreamy grin.

Anne bit her lip. "And what do you think, Aunt Jo?"

"Well, I've of course never had much experience with these matters, but I think you should listen to the others," she suggested. "And as I rationalize through it all, it seems plain to me that there's no risk at all and you've nothing to lose."

And with a final nod, the trio sent their own heroine on her way. 

\---

Anne stepped into Dr. Ward's office, book in hand, a bell ringing to announce her entrance. She could see a head of dark curls bent over an appointment book at the desk in the next room. Gilbert looked at her, barely a glance, and resumed his work.

"I'm afraid we're quite booked with appointments today, ma'am, but I can recommend Dr. Montgomery on Ash Street-"

"Gilbert, you silly boy, it's me." He looked up at this. He wet his lips.

"Anne?" He questioned, eyes trained on her. 

"Yes, of course, 'Anne.'"

"What are you doing here? Are you well?" He said after a pause.

She stepped closer to him and held up the book. "I've come to talk to you about something very urgent." His eyes flickered to the novel in her hand, and she could see and hear him swallow. 

"I... Anne, I can hardly belief you've come all the way to Charlottetown, but I hope you can understand that right now I have work-"

"Gilbert, what's going on? Is Mr. Pell not coming- by God, son, is that your Anne?" Anne watched as Dr. Ward stepped out from the examination room, taking his spot behind the young man. Anne also watched as Gilbert's eyes went wide. He sputtered out a cough.

"Dr. Ward, this is Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. You've met before."

"Yes, but I didn't realize that you'd both grown into such young _people_. I didn't realize you'd begun _courting-_ " Gilbert coughed much louder this time. "Oh, yes. I see now. Very sorry to intrude. Gilbert, it doesn't seem Mr. Pell is coming. Take the half hour for yourself." 

"Thank you, sir," Anne smiled boldly. "I won't keep him too long. Off we go then, Gil!" Now that the moment had come, she was surprisingly euphoric. She helped Gilbert into his coat, he donned his hat, and they were out the door. Her happiness did not seem to be matched. Instead, the young man who walked beside her held his breath, his gaze steadily fixed on a point ahead of them both. "Gilbert, you were quite clever, but not clever enough to fool me! I've pieced it all together!" She said, tapping on the book. He took a seat on a bench on the outskirts of a leafy park. 

"Have you?" He said, sounding tired. Anne suddenly felt a wave of self-consciousness come over her. She hadn't considered the possibility that his energy wouldn't match her own.

"I have," she said, biting her lip. "Are you all right?"

He let out a deep breath, rubbing his hands back and forth over the knees of his trousers, giving another of his vague nods. "Just...bracing myself," he said. "Waiting for this to be over with."

"To be over with?" She whispered, crest fallen. "Why would you want it to be over with?"

"It's hard," he admitted. "Knowing what you're going to say and having to stick around to let it be said."

"But that's...unlike you. That's unkind!"

He hung his head. "I'm sorry, I can't manage kindness when my dreams are crashing and burning."

Anne didn't understand, and she let him know this. "But... I figured it out, and I've come to tell you. Anne Elliot, Anne with an E."

He looked up at her with a sad smile. "Yeah, Anne with an E."

"I admit, I wished for a moment that you'd chosen to compare me to Eliza Bennett, who is witty and spirited and not frumpy like Anne Elliot, but there is only so much imagination you can plug into the words of another..." She saw his eyebrows furrow.

"You wanted me to compare you to Elizabeth Bennett?" He questioned.

"Yes, she's the much better heroine, but I see why it was Anne you chose. And I read further on in the book, and it is filled with passion, so I do truly forgive you for any suggestion of likeness to Anne Elliot and for choosing to begin our romantic journey with what is potentially Austen's most singularly unpopular work-"

He sat up straighter. "'Our romantic journey?'" He echoed.

"Oh, yes, I've become rather distracted, but I've come to tell you that I've come to the most wonderful realization, Gilbert!"

"'The most wonderful realization...'" He very nearly whispered.

"Or perhaps decision is the better word... but I've come to the conclusion that we could be in love, you and I. If you'd like."

"If I'd like..." His voice was just low breath now. 

"Yes, if you'd like," she repeated earnestly. 

She saw something new in those eyes now, like any dam that he'd built had burst. She imagined that everything he'd kept in his heart had come through to the surface, and for the first time she was seeing every color, every shade and brightness, every hope and dream that was Gilbert Blythe. It was as though she were meeting him, or, perhaps, meeting his soul for the first time. 

Slowly, an olive hand went to her pale cheek. She smiled warmly. 

"I've always wanted to tell you," he breathed. "You're a miracle."

She gave a small laugh, but soon found herself overcome, his lips on hers, but just for the briefest moment.

"How I wish I'd come to tell you in the orchard," she said, gently pulling away. "We can't do much of that here."

He looked at her a moment more, unsure if it all was real. When he'd become satisfied that the odds were in his favor, he raised her hands to his lips and kissed each one.

"I have to go back to Dr. Ward now, my sweet girl," he said. "But come. Come find me in the orchard tomorrow after church."

Anne rose, standing to her full height. She offered her hand to shake, a deal was to be made. "Tomorrow," she said solemnly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really blown away by the kind response I got to my trio of chapters yesterday haha :) I hope you liked this love confession, and I hope it was different enough from other fics you all may have read! I figure there's no point in writing something that already been written before.
> 
> As always, if so inclined, let me know what you think. I'm sure this chapter will have a little brother or sister soon enough lol
> 
> All the best, my friends!


	5. Chapter 5

As with every Sunday, Marilla neatly filed her family into a pew, and as with every week she threw her Anne a pointed look, imploring her to pay attention. Marilla knew her daughter still spoke to God as though she were composing a letter to a pen pal in Timbuktu, and also knew that, as the girl approached sixteen, she was running out of time to drive some desperately needed sense into her.

“I think,” Anne said as she pulled out a book of hymns. “That I would prefer to be married in a cathedral, as this is hardly a place for romantic imaginings.”

“Yes, this is _hardly_ a place for that,” Marilla replied sharply, though that was another worry she had. Just the other day, she’d heard from Rachel that the children had begun something called a “take notice” board, a concept she found highly unnerving. 

The congregants all turned then, a commotion coming from outside the doors. Marilla could see flashes of two young men rough housing, elbowing and pushing each other to the ground, their parents on their heels trying to set them upright. It made Marilla glad she chose, in the end, to be the mother of a girl.

The Andrews boy came blustering through the aisle, simultaneously smacking Charlie Sloan across the back of the head and pulling a ribbon from a girl’s hair. Marilla could watch no more of it, instead turning her attention to the front of the room and willing the minister to begin his sermon, trying not to think about the fact _these_ were the young men who may post on the forsaken board for her Anne. 

As the service progressed, Marilla found herself watching Anne, watched as red hair, worn loose today, for some reason, tumbled over the girl’s shoulder as she bent her head to pray. She hoped she had taught the girl enough sense over the past three years to know her heart was always safe with her mother.

———

Anne had devised the perfect plan, if only she’d thought of a way to tell her co-conspirator. 

“Marilla, could I walk home from church today? I fear it will be the last fair day for a while.”

Marilla went to adjust the girl’s scarf. “You may, but if you miss lunch, I’ll hear no complaints.” Anne smiled as she waved her parents off, waiting until they’d turned a corner before approaching another nearby cart. 

“Good morning,” she’d said brightly to Bash and Mary. 

“Hello, our young friend,” Bash said happily. “What is it we could do for you today?”

“Oh, Gilbert said I could ride back with your family. There’s a book he’s going to lend me. Where is he?”

With that, the boy came bounding around the church, white chrysanthemums clutched in one. “I’m sorry if I held you up, I just saw these and- oh, hello, Anne. This is a surprise!” He took in the sight of the girl already perched at the back of the wagon.

Mary narrowed her eyes at him the two teenagers in response.

“It’s only a surprise because you’ve already forgotten about the book you’re going to lend me.”

He cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. How forgetful of me.” He took his place beside Anne as they began their journey back to the orchard. 

“And are those flowers for me, then, Gilbert? You sweet boy!” Mary teased. His eyes darted to Anne and both Mary and Bash laughed. “Oh, that’s all right. I’m only teasing. But maybe our sweet friend Anne would like some flowers for her room.”

“These were always for Anne,” Gilbert announced loudly, leaning over to place the bouquet in her lap. 

“Do you hear that, my love? ‘Always for Anne,’ he says.”

“Alright, that’s enough fun at Gilbert’s expense.”

“Oh, it most certainly is not. I didn’t follow a skinny white up here to the North Pole to not get my thrills at his expense. So what book is it you’re lending our Anne, Blythe?”

“Oh, um, whichever she wants.” Anne fought back the urge to kick him in the shin for that low-effort response. 

“We’re writing book reports and we’re allowed to choose our book. Gilbert has a better collection than me,” Anne explained cooly.

“And what about the Barrys? You’ve told me they have an entire Library filled with books,” Bash countered.

“Yes, well,” Anne could feel a blush rising. “I know what they have at their house, but I don’t know what Gilbert has. So I’ll weigh my options once I do know.”

“Hmm,” Bash said thoughtfully. “Not buying it, Queen Anne, but you’re not my kid to tease so we’ll leave it alone this once.”

“And how is Delphine?” Anne asked eagerly, hoping to distract Bash and Mary. It worked, as they spent the rest of the ride absorbed in the details of the baby’s sleep schedule, leaving the young people to their own thoughts. 

Anne and Gilbert were halfway in the house before Mary and Bash had climbed down. A few minutes later, the two had bolted back down the stairs, Anne with a book in her hand. They came into the kitchen, each quickly grabbing a pear and muffin from the bowl on the table, trying their best to get past without any questions from Mary. 

“I’m walking Anne home now!” Gilbert called from over his shoulder as Anne pulled open the door.

“Stop right there, you two,” Mary said, a hand on each hip. The two young people froze in place, Anne with a hand on the door knob. “I’m just wondering what it is Anne picked. Well, give it over. Let me see.” 

Anne’s eyes flickered over to Gilbert nervously. She wasn’t even sure what she had grabbed.

“Well, go on,” Gilbert said under his breath. “Show her.”

Anne held the book out and Mary snagged it from her, looking at it briefly before quirking an eyebrow.

“So the Cuthberts don’t have a copy of the Bible at home for you to do your book report on, Anne?”

“It’s not for the book report,” Anne said cooly. “It’s for…something else.”

“Mhmm,” Mary responded, her eyebrow still at the most precarious angle. She handed the book back to Anne. “All right, off you two go. And you best not let Marilla know I let you spoil your lunch.”

“Yes, Mary,” Anne said quickly. “Thank you, Mary.” 

The woman rolled her eyes and turned back to the kitchen, wondering how she had found herself in the position of helping to raise a couple of orphans. 

“God knows it takes a village,” she muttered as she bounced her own baby on her hip.

———

Gilbert had spent the night before going over in his mind the geography of his orchard. What were the lines of sight? Would it be better to risk being seen from the house or from the road? Was there anywhere on this island where he could hide away, and take his Anne with him?

_His Anne_. He smiled to himself, falling into his bed with his clothes still on, the candles out. Since leaving that park bench behind, Gilbert had been longing for this moment of privacy. He let himself imagine the door to his bedroom quietly opening, a small figure, an angel, entering in the same sage green dress he’d seen her in earlier. He could picture it, her shy smile as she pulled the delicate white gloves off of each of her hands. He smiled, too, imagining himself reaching out open-palmed. He imagined the gentle touch of her cool fingers.

_“I’ll need to take my hair down,_ ” the girl would tell him. 

_“Would you like me to help?_ ” He imagined his own voice to say. In answer, she turned and sat down on the edge of the bed. Gilbert saw himself sit up and begin the delicate business of unpinning her beautiful hair, each tendril a lick of fire falling down over the two of them. Once the last pin had been removed, he imagined the girl to stand, and could almost feel the weight shifting on the bed. He could picture her wringing her hands, all nervous energy. He knew, in this daydream, that he was the cause of the butterflies in her stomach and it exhilarated him.

_“Would you like me to close my eyes now?”_ And at this she would bite her lip.

“ _Yes, but just this once. Just this first time.”_ And he would obey, but with his eyes shut, everything became fire, scorching into his mind. His hands were everywhere, his lips were everywhere. He saw the flash of porcelain skin as she slid beneath the covers beside him, saw the fire that spread across his pillows. In this half-dream, he stared into her eyes, desperate for her to see everything he felt for her, had always felt, would always feel. He wasn’t sure, even in his imagination, he could manage that, so instead he considered how it would feel to reach beneath the covers, knuckles brushing against the soft skin of her hip, her thigh, and to grab onto those cool fingers as fire overtook him.

But now, _now_ , he was truly with her, her cool fingers intertwined through his own as he lead her to the spot in the front of the house where his family’s prying eyes couldn’t see, the leafless apple trees shielding them. Satisfied with their spot, he twirled her around, once, twice, and let her rest her back against the trunk of a tree.

They smiled dumbly at one another as he ran a hand through her hair. “You’re not wearing your braids, why is that?” His voice was low again, and it made Anne feel as though she better not look him in the eye.

She shrugged. “I was thinking maybe I’ve grown out of them.” This of course reminded them both of her appearance yesterday, hair pinned up as the young ladies wore it, waist cinched by aid of a corset. “It was Diana who thought I’d make a good Gibson Girl, but really, Gibson Girls should have lovely dark hair the color of chocolate or hickory—“

“All of those drawings I’ve seen in magazines of Gibson Girls are in black and white. How do you know they don't all have vivid red hair?”

“That would be absurd. I think, to qualify as a Gibson Girl, your hair must at least be a true auburn, and nothing less.”

“I won’t argue with you on that,” he said softly, hands braced again the tree on either side of her head. “But you have to promise not to argue with me when I tell you this…”

“I can’t possibly promise until I know,” she said.

“Well, I’m sorry. That’s not how this game works. I won’t go any further without a promise.”

“Hmm,” she huffed. “But I can be stubborn, too.” He laughed, moving to take her chin in his hand, forcing her too look him in the eyes.

“Can you?” He breathed. She said nothing. “Well, you win this one, too, Anne, and I will tell you without the promise, because I’ve been waiting to tell you.” He leaned down as though to whisper in her ear. “You’re the most beautiful person in my world.” And he kissed her face, right beside her ear for good measure. Anne gasped in surprise. He leaned back, laughing kindly, taking her hand in his. “Could you believe it? Because I mean it.”

Anne bit her lip and kicked at the ground. “I never thought anyone would say that to me, least of all you, Gilbert Blythe.”

“Is that a good thing?” He asked, anxiety creeping into his voice. She looked up at him with a grin and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Yes, you silly boy.”

“Because I could tell you every day from here on out if you’d like.”

“Just tell me again now, that’s all I want.”

He felt himself smile, his own happiness overtaking him. A week ago, this could have hardly have seemed possible!

“Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful girl!” He said, kissing her face between each word. She laughed and pulled him closer still, standing on the toe of his boots to reach up higher.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt someone else’s breath on my face before,” she whispered. 

“Anne,” he said. “Have I been clear?” She raised an eyebrow, urging him on. “I’m in love with you.”

Her brows furrowed. “Did I not say as much yesterday? I love you, too.”

“So, we’re clear?” 

“Completely!”

“Because… I’m going to kiss you now, and I’d like to kiss you every chance we get —“

“Please do!” 

They laughed as they leaned in, both hardly believing the truth and the good luck of it, their happiness overtaking them. 

Gilbert thought her lips moving against his own felt nice, good and sweet, but he could feel something deep within his belly hissing up at him: _It’s not enough, it could be more!_

One hand went to the back of her head, tangling deep into her hair, the other to her waist, pulling her lower body ever closer to his own. For a moment he could sense her surprise, then felt her melt easily into his arms. Some unfamiliar part of him felt pleased he could illicit this response, and so he leaned her against the tree once more.

Anne could hear that unfamiliar voice, too. She used to think that romance may someday call for her on the wind, but it wasn’t that way at all. It called out from deep within her. She listened to it for a few moments, unsure of what it would tell her next, but let her hands wander as the voice pleaded with her to do, running the length of his arm, a hand to his chest, fisting where his heart beats, the other drifting lower and lower still until the tips of her fingers gripped feebly at his belt. But this last bit, she didn’t notice. 

She felt his hand on her scalp, though it need not hold so tightly: she was glued to him as it was. His other hand moved freely. One moment it rested on her hip bone, the next it sprawled out over the place where _her_ heart beat. She felt her lower body press ever closer to his, and the hand that was over her heart clenched—

“Gilbert Blythe!”

The woman’s voice scared them and then sobered them, the noise enough to cause the young man to pull on the fabric beneath his fist, several of the buttons of her blouse breaking off at the force.

“Gilbert!” Anne cried as she attempted to cover herself. She could already feel the tears prickling in her eyes in humiliation. 

Mary looked as though she’d seen a ghost, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at the two. Instead, she spoke to the sky.

“Anne, it’s time for you to go home _right now_.” 

“Anne, you don’t have-“

“She does,” Mary said firmly, looking at Gilbert with an anger he’d never seen in her before. “Right now.”

Anne bent quickly to the ground to pick up her discarded coat. “Yes… I’m so sorry, Mary,” she said in a small voice before turning and running down the hill back to the road. Mary and Gilbert watched her as she left. Eventually he turned back to his sister-in-law.

“Mary, I can explain-“

“I don’t want any explanation, I don’t want any excuse. I want you to go on a long, long walk and before you turn around to come home, I want you to ask yourself: ‘will Mary be able to bear to look at me?’”

He wanted to tell her, this was his home, she couldn’t tell him to leave, but then he remembered the summer before when Mary was pregnant and he had fallen into poison ivy. He thought of how she had been the one to rub Dr. Ward’s lotion across his back and shoulders, morning and night. And then he thought of the lunch she was making that was on the stove, and the muffins on the table, and the anatomy book and how she had so carefully organized their finances so he could have it. 

So he turned and walked away. 

“No!” She called. “In the opposite direction of Anne!” 

He walked until it was nearly dark, twilight had fallen over the orchard as he approached the front porch.

“Bash,” he called. “Where are you going?” The man had rigged the wagon to the horse and looked ready to begin a journey. 

Bash was unsmiling as Gilbert approached. “Well you’re going to the lunatic asylum in Halifax, because you’ve obviously lost your damn mind,” he said calmly. 

“Bash, I don’t know what Mary’s told you, but it wasn’t-“ Bash held up a hand to stop him.

“No, you don’t get to explain right now. I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen. Nod if you understand what I’m saying here, Blythe.” Gilbert gritted his teeth and nodded. “We bring that girl home with us after church, Gilbert Blythe. You tell me and you tell my angel wife that she’s come to borrow a book, and we two, we’ve always known you were a fool in love but we never could have imagined that such a smart boy would stop thinking with his brain completely. So you drag Anne out to the one place on our property Mary and I can’t keep an eye on you from the windows, but just _yards_ away from the road, Blythe, _yards,_ only to be found an hour later, hands all over the girl, her shirt torn wide open! Mary said it looked like a wedding night to her, Blythe! Are you proud of yourself, Blythe? Proud the lady who rubbed that ointment all over your back all summer long got to find you that way? Proud of what you could have done to your poor Anne? Proud she’s surely spent the day getting yelled at because she was sent home from our house with swollen lips and missing buttons on her blouse?!”

Gilbert pushed any emotion down. “You can’t talk to me like this, you’re not my father.” 

Bash pointed an angry finger in Gilbert’s face. “And you’re damn lucky I’m not your father, because if I was, I would be making you go down to Green Gables right now to go ask Matthew Cuthbert for her hand.”

“Is that what you want me to do?” Gilbert asked dully.

“What?”

“Do you want me to go down to Green Gables right now and go ask Anne to marry me?”

“What? No, that’s-“

“No, it’s absurd,” Gilbert finished for him. “Because Anne and I are smart, and we’re going to college, and because you know in your heart nothing truly happened. If you can stop shouting about it for all the world to hear, nothing has to come of this, Bash. I promise.”

“Gilbert, that’s not the way this works,” Bash said more gently this time. “You’ve decided to become a doctor. Think of all the years you’ll be in school before you get to say you make a doctor’s salary. Think of poor Mary, younger than Anne is now with a baby to take care of. This can’t happen again.”

Gilbert looked down at the orchard, over towards Green Gables. “It hardly seems fair for people who love each other.”

“Well Blythe, that’s the way this world works. Maybe they’ll teach you something that'll be useful for this in medical school.” Gilbert turned to go in. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“In?”

“No way any brother of mine is letting his girl face Marilla Cuthbert’s wrath alone, get in the cart.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!  
> A quick head's up: this chapter is sexual, but in the most stupid and clinical of senses. I trust everyone can decide for themselves if that's something they'd like to read :)
> 
> Yours, etc.   
> S

Green Gables was silent, though each window glowed bright. Gilbert’s hands were fisted within his pockets, nails digging into fleshy palms. As they approached the porch, they could see Marilla Cuthbert kneading a slab of dough in quick spurts of energy.

It was Bash who knocked on the screen door. Marilla’s head shot up and she stood there at her table, just looking at the two men for a moment before deciding to come to the door. 

“Good evening, Miss Cuthbert,” Gilbert found the bravery to say. “Could we please come in? There are things I’d like to talk to you and your family about.” Marilla waited another beat, not saying anything, eyes dull, before she threw open the door and allowed the two to pass. 

Gilbert took a look around the farmhouse and saw into the parlor, where Matthew Cuthbert sat with his pipe, staring off into the fire. The older man turned at the noise of the visitors entering. When he saw who had come, his face paled. 

“Why, Gilbert Blythe,” he said, for once allowing his voice to project. “Of all the lads in Avonlea, I would have thought you would know better.”

“Gilbert?” He could barely hear a voice calling from somewhere in the house, but soon heard the sound of quick footsteps above his head. Anne had appeared kneeling on the stairs, peering out from the bannister.

“Young lady, you’re in your room for the night!” Marilla called loudly as she made long strides to the stairs to address her daughter.

“I have more to say in my own defense!” Anne cried. 

“We’ve heard quite enough from you today! Your room. Now.”

“But Marilla, you know nothing truly bad could have happened!”

“Do I know that, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert? Do I?”

“Marilla, I was just doing as my heart told me to do. That’s what every book says to do!”

Marilla put a hand to her exasperated face then suddenly turned with a ferocity to face Gilbert. “And what do you have to say for yourself, young man? I imagine you’ve come here for some purpose.”

Gilbert was silent a moment. Bash hit him rather hard in the back which brought him back to his senses. He cleared his throat loudly. “Mr. and Ms. Cuthbert, I am so sorry for the state Anne came home to you in. I know there is no way I could explain this to make it seem like we were completely in the right, but I hope you’ll excuse at least some of our behavior with my explanation-“

“Marilla!” Anne yelled. “How can you let him explain but not me? Matthew, can’t you tell her how dreadfully unfair this is?” Matthew coughed nervously and tried to mutter something about checking on the horses.

“No, Matthew Cuthbert, you’re staying till the bitter end on this one!” 

“You’ve gotten us all in trouble now, Anne,” he said with a small, sad smile, taking his seat once more. “Marilla, Anne does make a point. You just took one look at her, asked her who did it, and sent her to her room.” 

“Marilla, nothing could really have happened… I mean, it would have been truly scandalous if someone else had seen us, I know, but Gilbert and I aren’t married, so there couldn’t have been any baby,” said Anne matter-of-factly. 

Marilla’s face contorted strangely. “What?” She hissed to the girl.

“Only married people can have babies,” Anne said, quieter this time, less sure.

“Who told you this?” She asked the girl before swinging back around to face Gilbert. “Did you tell her this?” She demanded.

Gilbert held his hands up in defense. “I did not tell her anything like that!”

“Is it… is it not true, then?” No one else in the room made eye contact.

“Anne,” Gilbert finally said when it became clear no one else would speak. “You… women don’t have to be married to find themselves… with child.”

“But… you need a husband and a wife,” she replied, dumbfounded.

Matthew stood up again at this and simply walked out of the room and out of the house. They all watched him leave, and with the slamming sound of the screen door, Gilbert said: “No… no, Anne, sweetheart. You don’t. You just need a man and a woman.”

“Oh,” she said. “I see… I’ll have to tell the girls at school this!”

“You most certainly will not!” Marilla barked. “That’s something their mothers will tell them.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me!” Anne replied. Marilla’s face fell with the accusation, clearly filled with hurt.

“You didn’t tell me— I didn’t know you needed to know. Not yet, Anne.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Gilbert, Marilla,” Anne said gently. “It’s very new, and I thought I already understood… and now I suppose it’s all ruined! I can’t believe we’ve been so stupid, Gilbert!”

Marilla opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Gilbert called: “I love Anne! And she says she loves me, I’d do anything to be back in your good graces, Ms. Cuthbert. Please don’t keep us apart—“

Marilla rolled her eyes. “Oh hush, child. I can hardly punish you forever for a foolishness at the tail end of childhood.” Both Gilbert’s and Anne’s eyes went wide, and Anne ran the rest of the way down the stairs. She took her mother’s hands in her own.

“Marilla, I have decided that I am in love with Gilbert Blythe and I am so endlessly grateful that you will not try to hamper my affection!”

“I am of course going to be hampering your affection!” The woman sighed. “We,” Marilla made a gesture encompassing everyone in the room. “Are never going to have a conversation like this again, because there will be no cause for it! Are we all in agreement?” The two young people nodded. “And you, Bash, are we in agreement?”

“Mary and I will of course be chaperones when they come up the orchard, but I have to tell you now, Marilla: I’m not the boy’s keeper. I’m not his father. The boy’s a man in his own right and I tell him, brother to brother, he has to be responsible for his own actions. I’ve told him that he needs to do better than he’s done today.”

Marilla nodded, a sense of finality hung in the air. “We’ll discuss this again another time. Anne and Gilbert have school in the morning.”

Anne watched from her bedroom window as Gilbert walked across their lawn in wide strides, a hand extended out far in front of him. Matthew Cuthbert waited a moment before shaking the young man’s hand with both of his own.

———

Gilbert yawned as the rest of the class shuffled to their seats, rubbing his tired eyes as his friends all pushed quickly passed, bumping one another in the process.

For this reason, all he saw was the flash of a small, pale hand and a folded piece of paper left in its wake. For a moment he was endeared: how bold of his sweet Anne to leave him a love note!

He nearly choked on air as he read what his sweet Anne had written him.

“Marilla won’t tell me, but Gilbert I know you know  exactly how a man and a woman make a baby and I absolutely demand, in no uncertain terms, that you tell me. You  will not be allowed to leave out the details. You shan’t be the only grown up between us a day longer.

Yours, etc.

Anne”

“What’s that?” Moody asked from over Gilbert’s shoulder.

“A shopping list!” Gilbert nearly shouted. “We need flour! And soap!”

“Oh,” Moody said, clearly put off by the other boy’s strange behavior. With this, Gilbert looked over to see Anne staring intently at him.

_No,_ he mouthed.

_Yes,_ she returned. He shook his head in response. 

Gilbert’s day did not improve. At lunch, Anne and all of the girls stared at him as though he were a purple zebra come to their schoolyard for the very first time. In the afternoon, Anne was called to the blackboard to show her geometry proof, a detour being made in her journey to deliver her beau another epistle. 

“I know you know, Gilbert Blythe. Is it true it’s called ‘intercourse’?

Yours, etc.

Anne”

For the first time in his life, Gilbert Blythe wished Anne Shirley-Cuthbert would leave him the hell alone. 

She was waiting for him at the doors. 

“No,” he said as he approached her.

“I wasn’t going to say anything yet,” she said in a whisper, eyes darting to all of the other students. “I’m not completely stupid.”

“It doesn’t matter because I’m not telling you anything,” he said as he put on his hat.

“So it’s true,” she said with a gasp. “You _do_ know!”

“You tricked me?” 

“I had to, Gilbert,” she said, walking ahead of him as they made their way through the school yard. “I thought you _probably_ knew, but I couldn’t ask if you did! You might lie! And I must know if we’re to be equals!”

“I would sooner pull the knowledge from my own head so as never to know it again, than tell you,” he said firmly, but she just laughed at this.

“Is it something you’d like pulled from your head? Or is it rather nice having it living in your brain?”

“Anne, stop,” he closed his eyes. “We promised we’d be good.”

She took one of his hands in hers as she pulled him further along the path. “And I so want to be good, but how can I be, if I don’t know what is bad?”

There was something to that notion, though he was loathe to admit it. “Anne…” He was pleading now.

“Please, Gilbert, I so want to be good,” she very nearly whimpered. 

Gilbert held his head in his hands a moment. “Is there anyone else on this path?”

“Tillie and Ruby have already gone, and Diana was out from school today. There’s no one else on our path.”

He took a deep breath. “You’re going to owe me forever for this,” he said simply. Anne bit her tongue, wishing she could tell him she would owe him nothing, as this knowledge would make them equals, make them even. 

“You don’t have to begin by telling me boys are different from girls, I know that from helping with babies,” she advised.

This, already, made him sigh. “Alright, but baby boys… the parts that are different from a girl, they’re… different than an adult man, do you understand?”

Her eyes widened. “Is it…bigger?” She whispered. 

He blinked a few times in astonishment. “Yes.”

“All right, I see,” she said, taking a few paces so she would be ahead. “So that… thing, that _bit-“_

“It’s a penis, Anne. Men have penises.”

“Yes, is that the key to it all then? Something must happen with the… penis, and that leads to a baby?”

“Yes, something does happen…” 

“But what could it be? What could you possibly do with a penis?”

_I swear I’m going to throw up,_ Gilbert nearly muttered, but instead he said: “They put it inside the woman.”

Anne’s mouth hung open. “How could it go inside!” She demanded, barely even a question. Gilbert groaned: he hadn’t thought he would have to teach her her own anatomy.

“Can you just bury me alive, Anne? Can we do that instead?”

“Don’t be a baby! Where does it go?”

“I can’t do this-“

“Please!” She begged. “Pretend you’re explaining to the wind, tell the woods! Just explain it all the way through, I won’t ask more questions!”

He grabbed ahold of her hand and pulled her into the trees. He sat on a large rock as she remained standing, closing his eyes.

“Men have a penis,” he repeated. “And women have a… vagina.” Anne silently filed the new word carefully into her memory. She didn’t really care for either of her new vocabulary terms and would see if she could create new words for them. “Dear wind, if you don’t know, a vagina is… the hole? the opening? where a woman’s menses flows from-“

Anne gasped again, unable to contain herself. “You know about that?”

“Shh…” he reminded her, eyes remaining closed. “Oaks and pines, you can think of it as an opening to a… sheath that exists within a woman. At the opposite end of the sheath are the woman’s reproductive organs, most importantly her ovaries where there are small eggs, as well as her womb. Remember this, trees, the woman has eggs. The man is quite different, he has what you might call the seed, and when the egg and the seed meet through sexual intercourse, that is the start of a baby, which will grow in her womb. This is the science of it, but a lovely but irksome fire seems to desire more, is that true, fire?”

Anne took her cue. “Yes, how does it all begin?”

Gilbert smirked, eyes still closed. “I’d imagine much the same as we were yesterday,” he told her.

“Oh, no, Gilbert!” She exclaimed, and the next thing he knew her arms were around his neck. “We’ve been so bad!”

“Not so bad,” he said. “Millions of people do as we did everyday,”

“But only the good ones are married,” Anne reminded. He nodded. He shrugged, trying to make himself belief that to be completely true. 

“You’re a good person, though, Anne.” 

“But not a good girl,” she muttered. “I’m not supposed to be wondering these things, or wanting to do the things we did yesterday.”

“We’ve already come this far, I’m going to just tell you the rest,” he explained.

“There’s more?”

“A bit,” he said. “When a man and a woman kiss and touch each other-“

“Like we did yesterday?”

“Yes, like yesterday. When they do that, they may both become… excited. That’s their bodies getting ready for intercourse. A woman’s… I hate this so much, her vagina creates some sort of lubricant, I don’t really know what exactly it is as I have exactly as much practice at this as you, and the man’s penis hardens. If they decide they want to have intercourse, he puts his penis inside of her vagina and… moves inside of her.”

“And that’s how she gets pregnant? From the penis?” 

“Yes, but also no. Or at least I think… it all comes down to that seed that the man has. It’s another liquid-type substance that comes…out of the penis when the man is… done. And that’s what can get a woman pregnant.”

They sat in silence for several minutes. “You kept saying ‘you think,’ what do you mean by that?”

“Exactly as I said: I think. No one has sat me down and explained these things to me. I’ve just picked them up as I’ve gone through life these past few years.”

“From Dr. Ward and your medical studies?”

“Yes, some. And some from the men on the ship-“

“What were they like?”

“Apart from Bash? Disgusting. Not the type of people I’d ever want to introduce you to.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment, and then laid her head on his shoulder. “Do you think you could find out for sure?” She finally said.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think I’ll always be able to stop myself from doing as we did yesterday.”

_Good God._


	7. Chapter 7

“I think you need to relax,” said Gilbert from his lounging point on his porch. It was the first truly mild day of the year and he was quietly desperate to enjoy it. Instead he was stuck watching as His, etc. Anne paced, beginning sentences but stopping a few words in while flailing her arms in the air every few minutes.

A less than elegant sight.

“Relax?” She turned to him sharply. “Gilbert, God will strike me down!”

“Why?” He asked calmly, turning the page of his anatomy book.

“I have been so bad… I have abandoned God and torn at the fabric of what it is to be a Christian!” Gilbert looked up at this, an eye brow quirked. “Marilla was right. She was always right: I am a heathen.”

“Anne,” he said with a sigh, setting aside his book. “I’ve told you: none of… what you’ve been… feeling….makes you a bad person.”

“Oh, but Gilbert,” she cried. “If only that were true! God will smite me!”

“How we behaved was natural, Anne. Listen: I’ve been thinking about it, and there really is nothing for us to be ashamed of. We just have to be careful-“

Anne’s face pulled in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how we’ve _behaved_ ,” Gilbert said, face mirroring Anne’s. “What are _you_ talking about?”

“I am talking about the sacred vow I made before God to Ruby!”

“The _what_?”

Anne rolled her eyes in exasperation. “See,” she said, bending down on one knee and taking Gilbert’s hand in her’s. “I’ll make one to you now.”

“You’ll _what_?” He hissed, pulling his hand away from her, afraid whatever she had in mind was something he may want no part in.

“Hey!” She responded, trying to retake his hand. “Give that back!”

“What are you _doing_ , Anne?”

“Just trust me and we’ll get this over with!” After a moment he gave her back his right hand, suspicion still written all over his face. 

Anne rolled her eyes again and quickly recited: “I, Anne, do become your liege-woman of life and limb, and of Earthly worship: and faith and truth I will bear unto you to live and die against all manner of folks, so help me God.” Anne then stood with a huff, dropping Gilbert’s hand and beginning to pace again. “I made this same vow to Ruby years ago, and I have dishonored her and dishonored myself by accepting you as my one true lover!” Gilbert opened his mouth to speak, but Anne held up a hand to stop him. “How can I live with myself? How could God forgive me for this?” She turned to him then, awaiting his response.

He looked her up and down, never more perplexed by this odd girl he loved. 

“You’ve become my _what?”_

She shook her head in frustration at his lack of understanding. “I need to do something… I need to go to Ruby and bear my heart to her, and beg her forgiveness. That is the only way my soul could feel light again.” Gilbert only blinked in response. “I should go to her right now!”

This finally roused Gilbert. “You said we’d spend the afternoon together! It’s the only time we’ll have!” Anne quickly came to Gilbert’s side, placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

“I won’t be gone long. Now you’ll have time to read your anatomy book and learn for certain what leads to a baby! I’ll be back!” And she was off, running down the hill, leaving Gilbert to wonder what happened, if it was unholy, and if he would ever have it explained. 

———

Twice Anne knocked on the Gillis’ front door before anyone answered. As soon as the door was open, Anne could hear quiet sobs.

Ruby had been prone to burst into tears with little provocation over the past few days, and for this reason, Anne had made Gilbert promise to treat her as though nothing had happened between them while in the company of their classmates. He reluctantly agreed.

“Oh, Anne,” said Ruby’s mother, a small woman with hair the palest shade of blonde. “Come in. Tillie’s just left. Ruby has been having a difficult afternoon, but I so know she appreciates the company of friends.” 

Anne could only nod, beginning the familiar ascent up the stairs to her friend’s bedroom. 

As she put a hand on the knob, she heard a quiet voice call out. “Anne, is that you?” Anne took a steadying breath as she opened the door, forcing a smile onto her face.

“It’s me,” she said.

“Oh Anne,” Ruby sniffed. “I’m so grateful to have learned from you how important it is to use your imagination in trying times, though none have ever been so trying as this!” She began to cry with renewed zeal. Anne went to put an arm around the sad, sad girl. “My imagination is not as good as yours,” Ruby said finally. “So I’ve been reading and I’ve found a poem that sounds exactly as I feel, shall I recite it to you?” Anne encouraged her friend to express herself. Ruby opened up a collective volume of poetry by the Brontes. 

“Cold in the Earth,” Ruby began. “And the deep snow piled above thee. Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave. Have I forgot, my only love, to love thee? Severed at last by time’s all severing wave?” Anne let her continue, Ruby’s body shaking at certain points throughout. “And, even yet, I dare not let it languish, dare not indulge in memory’s rapturous pain. Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish, how could I seek the empty world again?”

“You read that beautifully, Ruby,” Anne said while rubbing the girl’s back. “Do you feel better for reading it?”

“No!” Ruby cried. “I can never feel better! I can hope only for numbness!” Anne bit her lip, unsure of how to proceed. Ruby offered a small smile. “I’m so lucky to have you girls… kindred spirits! Who know how I ache!”

Anne rubbed her hands together nervously. “Oh, Ruby. You’ll never forgive me…”

“Why, Anne? Whatever could be the matter?” Ruby took Anne’s hands in her own. 

“I have wronged you, and I have gone back on the vow I made to you!”

Ruby’s eyes went wide. “What do you mean, Anne?”

“Please, Ruby, know that I didn’t mean for this to happen. But very recently I was given cause to search my soul and what I found was both harrowing and rapturous.”

“You must tell me!”

“But it is the most scandalous, loathsome thing I could have done to you! You, who I have sworn an oath to!” 

Ruby frowned. “What oath?”

“What oath?” Anne repeated.

“You’ve never sworn an oath to me, Anne.”

“But Ruby: don’t you remember? In story club so many years ago?”

Ruby considered this for several minutes. “Oh, that?!” She finally exclaimed. Anne nodded eagerly. “But that was just pretend, Anne, like the Lady of Shallot.”

“Shalott,” Anne quickly corrected. “But it wasn’t pretend, Ruby! We all swore oaths of fealty! How could you forget? And now I’ve broken mine and plunged us all into the most tragical romance.”

Again, Ruby considered this. “But I didn’t forget, I just didn’t think they were real vows. And they did not say anything about the romantical, so how could you have broken them?”

Anne stood then, anger rising. “How could you forget the promise we made, the four of us, as kindred spirits?” She accused. “I came to you, head hung low, to tell you how I’ve wronged you. And you do not even hold your promise in the same esteem!”

“Oh, Anne, I didn’t mean to upset you—“

“I am an evil, evil friend Ruby! I love Gilbert! And he loves me!”

All color drained from Ruby’s face. “He loves you, too?” Anne nodded. Ruby looked out the window for several minutes. Anne waited. “You never did make a vow about the romantical,” Ruby said finally, a very sad smile playing on her face. “What a blessing you’ve been given, Anne. But I think I’d like to be left alone now.” 

Anne nodded and quickly left, flying through the woods and back up the slopes of the orchard.

Gilbert looked up from his book when he heard the sound of boots trudging through muddy soil. “Anne,” he said with a smile. “You’re back.”

Anne fell to the ground in front of him, burying her face in his knees. It took him a moment to understand that she was crying. They sat their together, her leaning into him, crying, him rubbing her back, for several minutes before she said anything.

“She forgot our promise, Gilbert,” Anne said finally. “She forgot that I said I would bear faith and truth… she should have yelled at me! I wish she had yelled at me…” Gilbert pulled her up closer so she now sat beside him on the porch step. “I never want to hurt anyone ever again,” she said, tears still rolling freely down her face. 

And what could he say to that? Promise her that she never would? Instead he told her the truth: “You’re a good person, Anne.” She spoke her head against his shoulder. “You don’t see it right now, but that’s only because you are so good and so kind, you can’t fathom that others wouldn’t care for their friend in this way. They would just celebrate the joy they themselves had found. But you’re good because you care. You’re good. You’re good.”

Eventually, Anne began to calm and they sat shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. “When did you become so wise?” She asked.

“I’m not wise,” he said, shaking his head. “I just know you.” Anne nodded silently. “You’re better than me, you know,” he said quietly. 

She looked up at him then, a hand going to his cheek. “You pick the hardest battles to fight,” she told him. “You’ll never convince me of that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone,
> 
> This is just a PSA that there's a really wonderful rendition of Emily Bronte's "Remembrance" on YouTube, read by Frankie MacEachen that I've been listening to monthly since circa 2013. Go lay in your bed with the lights off and pretend the year's 1843, you're 38 years old and haven't known a moment's true joy in fifteen wild Decembers, not since your true love went to his grave, a grave that is already, metaphorically, your own.  
> Trust me: you'll love it.  
> Also, did you like this? I'm hoping everyone can tolerate the chapter by chapter changes in tone. At least it's always a surprise ;)
> 
> Yours, etc.  
> S


	8. Chapter 8

A casual passerby would have only heard the low hiss of several voices, snake-like, one stacked on top of the other, unintelligible until a high pitched cry: “OUCH!” Nearly as reliable as clockwork, it sounded every half a minute. 

But these were not serpents, certainly not in the traditional sense, but a group of dreadfully sneaky girls doing exactly as they knew they were not meant to do. They all stood behind a decrepit shed that marked the boundary of the Cuthberts’ property and the start of the Blyth-Lacroix.

“I mean it, Anne,” sneered Josie Pye. “If this is more of your pet mouse nonsense I won’t trust another word out your mouth.”

“It’s nothing like the pet mouse,” Anne whispered back. “This is science.” 

At this, the girls began their hissing anew, some wondering if it was science, how was it that Miss Stacey had neglected this lesson? Others asking aloud if it’s something they should know at all. 

“OUCH!” Tillie cried. “Jane, move your enormous foot off of mine!”

“Girls! Focus!” Diana said forcefully. “We were in agreement mere minutes ago, have we already forgotten our mission? How could we not remember our reason for being here?”

Jane, Anne, Tillie, Ruby, Josie, and Diana shared a look. All nodded solemnly. 

“Diana is right,” Anne said. “Now who will be the one to go up to the house and ask?”

A couple of girls laughed, another rolled her eyes with a smirk. 

“You, obviously,” Josie said. 

“Me?” Anne’s jaw had dropped. 

“Yes. You’re their neighbor. You know them best. It’s only natural,” Diana explained.

“Diana, I can’t go talk to Mary, not now—“

“You haven’t said anything to me!” Diana accused.

“I’ll tell you on my death bed,” Anne mumbled. Diana smirked at this news.

“I didn’t give you permission to die first,” Diana said with a shove. “Go.”

Anne counted her steps to the front door, then held her breath before raising a hand to knock on the door. Not a single moment had passed before Mary Lacroix had opened the door wide, arms crossed and brows furrowed. Anne felt herself blush.

“Hello, Mary. I was wondering if I could please come in, as I let Gilbert borrow a book that I am now in need of.” The girls had sat for thirty minutes to devise and rehearse this scripted performance. Mary pursed her lips.

“Gilbert’s left for Charlottetown for the day.”

“Oh, yes, I know.” She had watched him leave from her perch behind the shed. “But it really can’t wait. I know just where he would have left it. Could I please come in? I will only be a moment?”

Mary stood silently aside, lips still pursed, allowing the girl to pass. Anne muttered her thanks as she went, going quickly to Gilbert’s room. She scanned his shelf, his desk, before finally finding it, bookmarked and open on his bedside table. Anne held it close to her chest as she made her way to the exit.

“Which is it this time?” She heard a voice call quietly from the end of the hall. Anne’s breath hitched. This was the worst-case scenario. Anne turned slowly to face the woman.

“Please, Mary,” Anne pleaded. “Please pretend I wasn’t here. I’ll return it in just a few hours’ time.”

Mary considered this a moment, then her face softened. “Just show me and that’ll be the end of it.”

Hand shaking, Anne handed over the book. Mary looked at it for several moments, never opening it. Anne could see an emotion she didn’t recognize take over the woman’s face. Finally, she looked up and held out the book.

“Be _careful_ , Anne,” she said, her voice strangely hoarse. Anne nodded quickly, taking this as her dismissal. 

Anne ran through the hills of the orchard, to the shed and past it, the other girls following on her heels. They didn’t stop running until the door of the Cuthberts’ barn was closed firmly shut behind them. The girls had assembled bales of hay as seating, a work bench as the podium. Or, as Anne said as she took her place behind it: “This is our altar! The sound of the pages turning in this book is the requiem for our ignorance!” She held the book up, opened to the page Gilbert had bookmarked. The girls were huddled on hay. They stared, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. “And this,” she said with a triumphant grin. “Is a penis.”

And so Anne began her lesson, carefully reviewing all that Gilbert had told her, using diagrams from his anatomy book to better explain to the other girls. Every so often, Anne would see an incredulous hand reach out for one of their friends’, orwould hear a soft gasp come from the crowd. 

But when Anne said: “And then the man puts his penis inside the woman, and that is intercourse! That is marital relations! This is what may lead to a baby!” the room erupted. 

“I can’t believe it!”

“How dreadful!”

“Anne Shirley is a rotten liar! How dare you tell us this?” Josie waved an accusing finger at her instructor. 

“I’m only telling you this because I’m worried your parents won’t!” Anne cried. “Mine didn’t.”

Josie scoffed. “You don’t have parents.”

“Josie, don’t be so hateful.” Diana said, rising from her seat. “Besides: you know the Cuthberts adopted Anne years ago. They’re her parents.”

“Yes, and they haven’t said,” Anne explained. “What if the never say? And what about our friend Tillie? It’s just her and her lovely father. Is he going to tell her this?” The girls looked among themselves. “We should all know!”

“How did you even find this out?” Jane asked, clearly suspicious. Anne felt herself pale and stole a look at Diana. Understanding came over Jane. “But that’s Gilbert’s book… Gilbert told you! Why would Gilbert tell you?”

Chaos again, at least until the girls were startled by the sound of the barn door sliding open. 

“What are you doing in here?” Jerry Baynard called. “It sounded like one of the cows had gone mad.”

No sooner had he made his comment did the girls turn on him, yelling at him, demanding he leave as this was _private!_ and throwing hay and pebbles at him. He closed the door to shield himself from their barrage. The girls all turned simultaneously back to Anne.

“Why would Gilbert tell you?” Jane repeated slowly. 

Anne’s mind went blank, unsure how she could or should respond.

“Gilbert is Anne’s beau,” called a small, clear voice. Another gasp as the group turned to their youngest member.

“What do you mean, Ruby?” Tillie asked. Ruby shrugged. 

“They’re quite in love.”

Shrieks, nothing but shrieks until the barn doors opened once more. 

Matthew Cuthbert loudly cleared his throat. “Anne, it’s getting dark out there. Do any of you girls need a ride home?” 

Without answering his question, the girls dispersed, all fleeing out the door behind him leaving Anne and Matthew behind to watch them go.

“Was it something I said?”

———

Anne spent the last few days living in fear. Though, logically, she understood it to be impossible, there had been occurrences over the last few years that hinted, implied, and very strongly suggested that Marilla was possessed of the ability to read only the very naughtiest of notions in Anne’s mind. The idea that Marilla may know what Anne knows, may see what Anne sees in her mind’s eye was enough to keep the girl locked in her room at all available moments. 

_But, of course_ , Anne thought with a blush, _a bedroom supplies scope for the imagination, a spark that lights the flame for the most unsavory of thoughts._

Anne had laid in bed, testing her own imagination. Yes, if she thought hard enough, there would be the soft rapping of a pebble hitting her window. Once, twice, thrice was enough to make her rise from her bed (in her mind, at the very least). 

She would open the window slowly as it had a tendency to creak. She had found that instilling Marilla and Matthew’s presence in at least some of these imaginings made them ever the more thrilling. 

In her mind, she looks down from her gable room window and there, bathed in moonlight, is that sweet boy — or perhaps man? She hadn’t quite decided— she loves. 

“ _Gilbert,”_ she would call. _“What are you doing here? It’s freezing!”_

_“I had to see you!”_ He would call back. _“I couldn’t bear to stay away!”_ And she would feel a shiver, and she would imagine she knew it was not from the cold. _“Please, Anne,”_ he would plead. _“Please let me see you.”_ Then she would bite her lip, weighing the risks, but always deciding that she would, indeed, tiptoe down the stairs in the dead of night, open the porch door and lead him in, back up to her bedroom. There they would stand looking at each other in the glow of the candles, both knowing the risk they were taking, feeling the ground shift between them as they opened themselves up to this new sensation.

_So grown up_ , Anne thought wistfully. 

She imagined his hand finding the side of her face in the same tender way it had on that park bench in Charlottetown.

_“Anne,”_ he would say, and she would stare deeply into his eyes, so filled with romance. She would nod once and in a dash his lips would be on hers in a kiss so different from the orchard: there would be no laughing in this imagining. 

He would lay her on the bed then, kissing and touching and touching and touching. She remembered what Gilbert had told her about his body and her’s and tried so hard to keep those wretchedly unromantic anatomical terms from her mind.

But this was as far as her imagination would let her progress before it all went fuzzy, the details blurred. She wondered how far she could push the boundaries, how much more clarity her imagination could be provided if only given the proper fodder from reality. 

With a sigh she let these blurred images go, instead conjuring those dark curls beside her once more. She wondered if she could ever be satisfied with romantic glances and brief touches. 

“Impossible,” she whispered. “What a dreadful prospect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I hope you're continuing to enjoy!


	9. Chapter 9

After however many days and whatever number of nights, Anne’s imaginings began to change from the beautiful caresses in candlelight and the faint hint of something beyond. One evening it was like a treacherous gust of wind blew through that gable window, cutting the light, turning everything from burning red to the deep blue of a bruise. Anne thought it was as though the world went from containing the infinite to offering nothing. It frightened her.

She sat several minutes that first night in that imagined darkness before she understood what had happened.

She had learned how babies came to be. And come, they do.

And they come and they come and they come. 

Even Mrs. Hammond had once been a 15, _almost_ 16, year old girl. Anne wondered if she had ever dreamed of a vocation, if she ever had college within her reach. Anne never knew how old Mrs. Hammond was, only knew the babies came year after year and Mrs. Hammond marked her life by their births. 

_But Mr. Hammond worked the docks_ , Anne reasoned. _He was no doctor._

At this, Anne rolled over with a groan. How long was a doctor in school? Oh, so many long years… She’d been nervous to speak to Gilbert about how it all would _work_ , scared that she was making assumptions, coming to the wrong conclusions. She thought of her lovely Lizzie and her Mr. Darcy, and how the moment of love was the moment of engagement, and how no one dilly-dallied. Perhaps that was what made Anne so fond of the story: everyone knew that they would only love once, so they were not quick to throw that away, to count others as, eventually, replaceable. 

But that wonderful Jane was writing so long ago, Anne had no way of knowing if the world could still be that way.

_If it ever was_ , she thought dully. A memory hit her. She couldn’t place the year, just the girl and the feeling. Esther was several years older than Anne, with pale blonde hair and deep blue eyes. Anne remembered her graceful hands and how she moved with soft, gentle motions. She was the first person Anne had met who had truly _swept_ across every room she was in. 

Esther, too, lived off and on in the asylum in Halifax. Her parents had emigrated from England and promptly died upon arrival in Canada when Esther was 12. Anne knew that when she was 15 she was taken into service in a large house belonging to a member of Parliament. Another one of the older girls, Ada, a dear friend of Esther’s, would read her letters aloud to the girls’ dormitory.

“The family is genteel and respectful of their servants, taking the time to learn our names and our interests. When Mr. George Beauchamp, the youngest son, learned of my fondness for horses, he arranged for me to have a riding lesson on my afternoon off, offering up his very own mare—“

“Mr. George has the most wonderful sense of humor, and is among the most charitable of men—“

“Darling George is home from college and assures me that Montreal is every bit as romantic as the great European capitals. And Ada, if you can belief, George has told me that he longs to walk with me along the Saint Lawrence River, arm in arm, he says—“

“My sweet, lovely George is the braver between us. He says he will talk to his father and they will come to an understanding. He says once I am his fiancée I can come out of service—“

“George has not yet spoken with Mr. Beauchamp, though the need becomes more pressing by the day. Ada, how I love him. How I wish to be with him. He is so dear to my heart and always on my mind. I fear I’ve been a fool, as I’ve still no ring—“

And that was the last letter Ada received from Esther. A week later, the girl was back in the asylum, much of her sweetness gone. Anne remembered how Esther clutched her carpet bag and walked silently back to her old bed. She let the bag drop harshly to the floor and took a seat on the edge, staring blankly ahead. Anne remembered how Esther had left the asylum in a dress to her knees, really too short for a girl of her age, and came back in the long skirt of a woman. All of the girls gathered, waiting for her to say something. Finally, her eyes sought out Ada’s. Esther gave a sad, beautiful smile. 

“It would turn out that love is not enough,” she offered in explanation. “I don’t know why.”

Anne turned into her pillow and sobbed as she relived this memory, now as close to womanhood as Esther was then, a new understanding of the devastation the beautiful girl must have felt.

Perhaps still feels. 

When the tears had stopped, Anne stared at her ceiling, willing herself to think of a way in which she was different from Esther. All she could remember was the other girl’s beauty and grace, and her own lack thereof. 

The son of a parliamentarian at McGill. A future doctor at Redmond or the University of Toronto, or perhaps he would voyage further afield. Anne had every hope for her own sweet, lovely Gilbert. 

She imagined him on the narrow streets of Boston, dressed in a new gray suit, a Harvard man who’d worked hard for a scholarship. She pictured beautiful American faces in some public hall, girls dancing in circles, round and round with their beaus, her own lonely beau near the far wall, punch in hand. Perhaps he’d catch sight of beautiful brown eyes framed by hair the color of honey and he would think of his island and his bees and his homely girl. Would he smile or frown?

And a month later he and the other students would wave the Radcliffe girls off, back home to New York and Philadelphia at Christmastime and the men would laugh, wondering what new fineries these creatures would return with after the holidays. Then they would speak of their own sweethearts back home. The boy from Chicago would speak of a second cousin his parents wanted him to marry. She’d be called Rebecca. The young man with the limp would tell them of his girl, a southern belle, too good for him. He’d known her all his life and he called her Mimi, though she was Amelia on the dotted line. How would Gilbert speak of her? Would he speak at all? Would he remember the only thing that made it bearable was the “e” at the end? Would he inform them it was there? That she, Anne, was there, waiting the long years until he’d come back to her?

Would he come back at all? She cried once more.

Morning came harsh as anything. _16_ came harsh as anything.

Anne steadied herself and tried to push thoughts of Esther from her mind. She devised an exercise in gratefulness. With a long, heavy breath, Anne reminded herself that today she was no orphan. 

As she entered the kitchen and saw Marilla and Matthew, saw how they behaved as they did every day, the bravery she had carefully constructed mere moments ago nearly cracked completely. How could a person be made to feel so completely _unspecial_ without a single change? Even when it became apparent that is was all just a ruse, Anne felt it hard to muster excitement. 

Breakfast ended with the sound of a knock on the door. 

Matthew smiled kindly from his spot at the table. “Well you’d better go get that, Anne.”

With a nod Anne rose from the table and crossed to the door. There stood Gilbert Blythe in his winter coat, hopefully the last fresh coat of snow on the ground. He held a box in his gloved hands, wrapped in blue and silver paper. He smiled warmly as Anne opened the door for him.

“Happy birthday, my sweet girl.” She wished he’d been improper and kissed her boldly in that doorway. She thought perhaps then she would forget her worries from the night before. “I wanted to see you before the others so I could give you your gift in private.”

Anne’s spirits rose at this. She imagined Gilbert spending each Saturday for a month leading up to her birthday darting through Charlottetown’s shops, looking for the perfect present. She hoped he had bit his lip, wondering if his Anne would like it. She wondered where the money for it came from. She’d read stories before of lovers trading their most precious possession to get their most darling one exactly what they always wanted. 

This wasn’t to say she actually wished Gilbert had gone quite so far, but it was an enchanting idea all the same. 

The two moved to the parlor, taking their seats on the couch. He handed her the gift. She was careful not to rip the paper.

“I put it in a box so you couldn’t guess what it was right away,” he told her with a shrug. She pulled the lid off and inside was a familiar book. “I hear the Brontes are some of the most passionate writers out there.”

_“Jane Eyre_ ,” she breathed.

“Yes, do you like it?” She looked up at him then, he had something about the eyes in that moment that rather reminded her of a golden retriever puppy. 

She looked back at the book and figured it was no use in devising a lie. “Yes, I love _Jane Eyre_. I read the copy Aunt Josephine gave me all the time.”

“Oh.” She dared not look at his face. “I’m sorry, I… have you told me before that you’ve read _Jane Eyre_?” Anne could feet hot tears coming to her eyes. She nodded. “That’s right, you did.” They sat in silence for a few moments. Without looking at him, Anne felt around for his hand. “I could take it back, Anne. I could get you something else.”

She wished he wouldn’t ask her what she wanted. She didn’t want to be the one to tell him to take it back, so instead she told him: “No, it’s a nice copy. Might as well have two.”

And so that evening she took the book with her to her room and placed it alongside its twin, imagining that she would feel sorrow each time she looked to it.

Three days later Anne sat on her bedroom floor, a book about New England which she had borrowed from Diana open on the floor.

Anne learned that Boston was in the process of building an underground train system, the first in North America. She learned how the city was changing, filling with new Irish and Italian immigrants.

She turned to the back of the book and opened a map of the state of Massachusetts. It would seem that Harvard was not in Boston at all, but across the Charles in Cambridge. Anne couldn’t imagine what Cambridge would be like.

In her mind she watched Gilbert in his new gray suit walk quickly down a narrow street and drop down into the sidewalk, down into the dark, down to Boston’s underground trains.

Try as she might, she couldn’t imagine where he would reemerge. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone,
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm honestly much better versed in writing this sort of internal monologue/psychological exploration than I am anything so dialogue driven as the previous chapters in this fic. 
> 
> As I wrote this, I started considering the appeal of maybe diverging from canon a bit... I mean, Gilbert and Anne get the same score on their exams and one goes to the University of Toronto and the other to the college a couple of towns over? I don't know, something about that didn't sit right with me. 
> 
> Is it clear yet that I went to a women's college in Boston? How about that I hope to become a History professor? Lol guys I am so excited for grad school this Fall so I can have that sweet, sweet library access and JSTOR login. We're going to have some historically accurate content!
> 
> Finally, I'll repeat my PSA for those it might resonate with: DO NOT TAKE A GAP YEAR. APPLY EVEN TO FANCY SCHOOLS WITH HUGE ENDOWMENTS. THEY MIGHT LET YOU IN AND THEY MIGHT GIVE YOU $$$.
> 
> I hope you liked this, and I'm wishing you guys nothing but the best,  
> S


	10. Chapter 10

There was so much quiet in Anne’s life, she hardly realized before. That evening there was only the sound of the dish water splashing as Anne waded through, the crackling and crunching noises of the fire in the parlor, and Marilla’s footfall as she retreated to her room. Without her realizing, the loud clatter of a plate shattering joined the strange cacophony. 

“Oh, Anne,” she heard Marilla sigh from the stairway. Anne didn’t respond, didn’t inspect her mess, she simply stared at the wall above the sink, breathing shallowly through her mouth. She heard Marilla’s lithe strides coming closer, and soon heard the heavier footfall of Matthew. 

It was Matthew who clued in first. “Are you all right there, Anne?”

Slowly, their daughter turned to face them. Seeing the look on her face, the siblings looked at each other, dumbstruck. When it became apparent that Anne wasn’t going to answer, it was Marilla who began offering up lifelines.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll be all right. Have you quarreled with Gilbert?” Anne gave a minute shake of her head. “Has something happened at school?” Again, Anne shook her head. “Well, young lady, you’ll have to tell us if you want us to make it better.”

Anne looked between her parents, wondering if either of them had felt as she did now. She was unsure if she could describe the strange sadness she felt over something that hadn’t even come to pass. She felt sure that they would dismiss it as a fault of her imagination, but it seemed ever so tangible and inescapable. She wondered if she should consider this her first womanly imagining.

“Do you think,” Anne nearly whispered. “That perhaps Gilbert will go very far away in September?”

Marilla gave a sigh of relief. “Oh, is that all, Anne?”

“No,” the girl mouthed. “I don’t think it is, at least.”

With this Matthew wrapped an arm around Anne’s shoulders and lead her to a seat at the kitchen table. “Then we should talk about what’s on your mind, Anne.”

The trio took their seats, waiting patiently for several moments for Anne to begin.

“Well?” Marilla finally prompted.

“Don’t rush her, Marilla,” Matthew advised. 

“I’m sorry, I just don’t know how to begin,” Anne explained quietly. 

“How about we give you one of those prompts Miss Stacey’s always handing out?”

“Ok,” Anne agreed. “Maybe that will help.”

“In one word,” Marilla said, doing her best to match her daughter’s solemnity. “What is bothering you?”  
Anne considered this, she counted four heartbeats. “Esther,” she said finally.

“Who’s Esther?” Matthew was the one to venture.

Anne stared down at her hands, folded neatly on the table. “She was one of the big girls at the asylum,” Anne said, voice cracking. “I think something bad happened to her.”

Again the siblings shared a look while Anne kept her gaze fixed on her own hands. 

“Did you know this girl well? Do you want us to give you money for postage so you can write to her?”

“It’s not like that,” Anne swallowed hard. 

“Anne,” Matthew said gently. “We’re not understanding you.”

“We’re not understanding you,” Marilla echoed. “What does this have to do with Gilbert going away?”

“Esther had a beau,” Anne said carefully. “And he sent her away. Then she told us that…” Anne stopped herself mid-sentence, suddenly feeling as though there weren’t enough air in her lungs. “She told us that love isn’t enough. She was so sad…”

Matthew cleared his throat. “Do you worry that maybe Gilbert will send you away?” 

Anne thought about this a moment. “No,” she told them. “No, I don’t.”

She saw Marilla’s eyebrows furrow. “Then what is there to worry about?”

“I think he’ll send himself away,” Anne said forcefully. “I will be here… here forever! At Queens! In a one room school house! And he… he’ll get his scholarship, and he’ll be off. I can see him at Harvard, I can see him in Toronto, some days I can even see him get off a ship in England. And I’m never there. I’m here. And he’ll look on at all the other students…. and I can’t decide if he’ll forget me or resent me.”

Matthew’s face changed. “Now Anne, did your Gilbert say something to you to make you worry like this?” It took Anne a moment to recognize the emotion on her father’s face, as it was so rarely seen.

“Oh, Matthew, don’t be angry at him. He hasn’t done anything. I can just see it so clearly all on my own.”

“Well this all very insightful,” Marilla said suddenly. “But what is it that can be done that will make you feel better? I mean it: think, Anne. We won’t leave this table until we’ve thought of some remedy.”

“Have you ever thought, Marilla, that there are times when a person just has to feel sad?”

“I have,” Marilla admitted. “Many times. And I was your age when I learned that if you let yourself feel all the sadness you long to, the harder it is to come back when you’ve grown weary of it.”

“You learned that when you were my age?”

“Yes, and I didn’t have my mother to help me through,” she explained. “But I’m here for you, Anne.” The woman reached a hand across the table. Anne opened her palm as Matthew replicated his sister’s gesture.

“If I were to ask you both a question that deeply troubles my soul, do you think you could convince yourselves to forget for a moment that you love me and answer me with honesty?” Both brother and sister were silent. Without objection, Anne carried on. “Do you think it’s true my love, the love of an orphan, a homely, loud, orphan, is not enough? Do you think Esther and I are the same?” Matthew moved to answer. “Oh, but I forgot to tell you: Esther was very beautiful and I remember she had a pure soul.”

Anne looked at the two expectantly. 

“I can’t answer that, Anne,” said Marilla. The girl’s face fell. “I can’t answer it because I don’t think those awful things about you.”

“Oh Marilla, please let us speak openly-“

“I do speak openly, child.” Anne could see how the woman held herself back, trying so hard to offer gentleness. 

Anne pursed her lips. “What do you think, Matthew?”

He offered her a smile and a pat on the hand. “I can’t pretend I don’t love you, Anne. If Gilbert Blythe can’t remember my Anne while he’s off at school, why, he won’t very well deserve you.”

“Maybe I could go to Halifax,” Anne offered. “I want to know how I got to be there. Maybe they’d have an address for Esther. I want to ask her if she’s all right.”

With this Marilla rose from the table. “Good,” she said. “A plan. Perhaps Gilbert will chaperone you. It will give you time to talk, as you seem to have some things to clear up before September.”

“Marilla, I couldn’t possibly speak to Gilbert about these things,” Anne said desperately. “He won’t know the answers to my questions himself, not until he’s living it.”

“All the same,” Marilla said with finality. “Perhaps he should know what questions will be coming his way once he’s gone.”

“So you think he’ll go? Really?”

Marilla put a hand to Anne’s cheek. “I do,” she said. “But I know he’ll always come back for you.”

“But how do you know, Marilla?”

“Because if I had to go, I would always come back for you.” Anne knew she was crying but did nothing to stop it. “You’re not the same as Esther. You’re not alone.” Marilla took Anne by the arm and began leading her up the stairs. “And I’ve been meaning to tell you, your hair is getting so dark.”

“Oh, Marilla,” Anne sobbed. “Thank you.”

Marilla lit the lamp that sat on Anne’s desk and gestured for the girl to sit. Anne closed her eyes as the ribbon was taken out of her hair and the hairbrush was run through. Suddenly, Anne put a hand to Marilla’s wrist to still her. The two looked at their reflections in the mirror.

“I was so nervous you would say it was just my imagination.”

“It is just your imagination,” Marilla replied. “But I won’t have you facing your worst fears alone. What good would that do?”

———

“Are you feeling sea sick?” Gilbert asked as Anne braced herself against the rails of the ferry, head bowed. 

“No, I’m all right,” she replied. “How much longer, do you think?”

“Maybe an hour?” Gilbert replied, looking at his father’s pocket watch. “You’ve been so quiet today.”

Anne ignored this and tried to makeup for her silence. “I’m sorry I’ve you pulled you away from Dr. Ward’s.”

Gilbert shrugged as he wrapped an arm around Anne’s shoulders, leading her towards a bench. “It’s nothing, I’ll have a lifetime of Saturdays in a doctor’s office.” She was looking him in such a peculiar way. “Has something been bothering you? I mean,” he took a deep breath. “I know this trip will be emotional, but is there something I don’t understand? I feel like… I feel like we’re not on the same page, Anne, and it’s keeping me up at night, if I’m telling the truth.”

“Oh, no,” she said quietly.

“‘Oh, no’?” He mimicked. “That’s it, Anne?”

“No, it’s not it. But I can’t… overcome what’s been weighing on me at this moment, I can just tell you that the last thing I wanted was for my melancholia to weigh you down.”

“Melancholia?” He questioned. “What’s this all been about?”

“I just haven’t been feeling like myself lately,” she admitted. “I feel so completely consumed by worries, and my imagination has been getting the better of me. Perhaps it’s gotten the very best and worst of me…”

“What have you been imagining?”

She laughed softly for a moment. “Boston soirees and European ports.” 

He nudged her playfully. “You see yourself on a great adventure.” 

She shook her head. “No, not me.” She looked at him again in that peculiar way.

“Me?” She nodded. “Maybe someday,” he replied. “I don’t see what I’d be doing at a Boston soiree, though,” he laughed, but she frowned.

“You and the other Harvard men would be dancing with beautiful American debutantes,” she told him. “Or maybe you’d be in the corner wishing you felt free to dance with them.”

His eyebrows jumped at her description. “That’s what you’re worried about? Because I would never-“

“You can’t know that yet,” she said quickly. “So there’s no use talking about it.”

He was quiet for a moment, unsure where he stood. “If it’s not worth the energy to talk about it since we can’t possibly know how I’d behave, then maybe it’s not worth the energy dwelling on it.”

She looked up at him once more. “See,” she said. “That just proves it: I love you more.”

He could see she was angling for a quarrel, but he’d worked to hard to be where he was, and he would be hard-pressed to let her have it. “So it’s ‘she who worries more, loves more’? I’m unfamiliar with that one,” he teased. 

“Be serious, Gilbert,” she said with a sneer. “Can you imagine being in my position? About to watch you go off to some great institution—“

“You don’t have to watch me go, you know,” he said quietly. 

“What?”

“Anne, you’re just as smart as I am-“

“Smarter,” she corrected.

“Okay,” he said with a smile. “Smarter.” He reached out a hand, discreetly wrapping his fingers through hers in the folds of her blue skirt. “Nothing that’s open to me is closed to you.”

She shook her head. “I can’t afford to go where you go.”  
“I can’t afford Harvard,” he said with another of his playful grins. “But you were able to imagine up a scholarship for me. Imagine one for yourself.”

“But what if I can’t—“

“But what if you can? Seriously: imagine for yourself what you imagine for me. That is, if that’s what you want.”

“I’ve only ever thought of Queens,” she told him. 

“Queens is a good school,” he replied. “You’ll do a one or two year program, get your teaching certificate—“

“But could you imagine?” She said suddenly, face lifting. “Me? With a bachelor’s degree? I don’t think I’ve ever met a lady with a bachelor’s degree before… It would be something for my own students to hold up as an example of what is possible.”

“It would be a remarkable thing,” Gilbert agreed.

“What kind of girls do you think get their degrees?”

“The clever ones, I’d imagine.” 

She stomped on his foot, but only just a bit. 

“Rich ones, I’d say,” she said with a glossy look in her eye. “With forward-thinking parents.”

“Talk to Miss Stacey,” he advised. “She’s helped me so much.” She nodded. “Is there something else?” 

“Do you want me? Do you want me to be where you are?”

“Is that a real question?”

“Will you please just answer it?”

“The short answer is yes,” he told her. “The long answer, well, Anne, I’m honestly saving all my best material for the day when it could all stand to come together for us.”

“What does that mean?”

He laughed and wrapped his arm around her, placing his cheek against the top of her head. “You’ll get an excellent proposal if it kills me, that’s all I’m saying.”

She jumped at this. “Gilbert!” She cried. “You’re not supposed to just tell people things like that!”

“Well, if it’s a surprise that I want to marry you and that I never want you to leave my side, then I am a truly ineffective man.” 

` She smirked. “So you’re a man now?”

“Don’t tease,” he said. “You girls have it easy: one day you put your hair up and put on a long skirt and it’s all said and done. I think it’s a bit more introspective for my lot.”

“So you’ve introspected and found that you are indeed past boyhood?”

“Boys can’t make the sort of promises I want to make to you, Anne.”

There it was again. The seriousness, the romance in his eyes. Anne could barely hold his gaze, it always became too much, especially when there were others around. 

So instead she nodded in understanding and rested her head against his shoulder, their linked hands still hidden in the folds of her skirt.

———

There was nothing for her at the asylum. No records, no addresses. She gathered her old stories and held them tightly in one hand, her other at Gilbert’s elbow, grateful for the physical support.

They were nearly to the heavy doors that marked the exit when they heard a voice call from behind them, stopping them in their tracks. 

“Why, as it lives and breathes, it’s Princess Cordelia.”

Anne felt Gilbert turn and tried to subtly pull on his arm, willing him to leave. Instead he called out a greeting. 

“And who’s this? Prince Charming?”

“I’m sorry?” Gilbert replied, letting Anne’s hand slip from his arm and walking over to the other girl.

“So are you dropping off then?”

“Dropping off?” 

“Gilbert, please, I’d really like to go-“

“Prince Gilbert, is it? You look like you might make a gentleman someday. Did she lock you in with a kid?”

“Gilbert-“ He held out a hand as though to keep her back. She was reminded of the time Matthew had barred her from a wounded farm animal.

“Were you here all those years ago with Anne?” He asked the girl.

“Yeah, I know Cordelia real well,” she sneered. “Better than you do, I’m sure.”

“It’s true, she doesn’t tell me much about this place,” he admitted. “Maybe someday she’ll trust me enough to talk about it.”

The girl’s smirk left her face. She had no response.

“I’m sorry to see that you’re still here,” Anne said quietly.

“It’s not like that. I choose to be here now, I—“

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell us,” Anne replied. She took a step forward. “Can I ask you about something that’s been weighing on me? Do you remember Esther? She was blonde, a few years older than us?”

The girl’s face twisted. “Yeah, I remember Esther.”

“Do you know what happened to her?” 

The girl rolled her eyes and then gestured out the open door to the yard where a tow-headed little boy sat tearing at grass.

“That’s what happened to Esther.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that was really something to write. 
> 
> I've been thinking a lot about what would have been possible for a girl like Anne at the turn of the century, and it can be hard to say definitively. My own alma mater is a women's college that specialized in training working class and lower middle class women in very practical fields, notably social work, teaching, and, oddly enough, nutrition (think large food halls). They'd earn BA's so they could support themselves and live independently of male relatives. This was rather different from places like Wellesley or Radcliffe (now merged with Harvard), which catered to more well-to-do crowds. At those schools, it's my understanding there was less expectation that the graduates would fend for themselves. 
> 
> I love a girl with ambition, though, so I'm going to see what boundaries I can push.
> 
> As always, I hope you're enjoying this story and I'd love your feedback.
> 
> Wishing you all very, very well,  
> S


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT
> 
> Hello, everyone!
> 
> I'm taking a moment here to give you warning that this chapter is sexual, but also, in my opinion, very sweet and totally consensual between Anne and Gilbert.
> 
> There won't be actual intercourse, but I wanted to give you the opportunity to bow out if that's not your thing and I promise to give a plot summary of what happened here at the start of the next chapter to avoid confusion.
> 
> Thanks for your attention!

“It’s going to storm,” Anne said blandly, the road to Halifax stretching out before them.

Gilbert looked to the sky. “Maybe,” he told her. “But I think not.”

“All the same,” she replied, gate widening. “We should get going.”

Gilbert jogged to take his place once again beside her. He had seen how her eyes widened, her face paled at the sight of the little boy. _That’s what happened to Esther._ It was clear to him that he’d been made privy to one of the truths of Anne’s childhood. He felt like an audience member at the theater, seeing a performance too steeped in human ugliness to ever make it to his island. 

An ensemble cast of girl children in rags, cast out and then reeled back in only to finally, _at last_ be thrown away for the very last time.

_That’s what happened to Esther._ Absolutely nothing happened if there’s no record, no one to bear witness, just a child in her image. 

_She thinks she’s her,_ he thought. _She thinks she’s Esther._

He reached out a hand but she wriggled her fingers free, never looking at him, but grabbing for the fabric of her skirts and raising them past her ankles, lengthening her strides still further.

“Anne,” he called out. “Anne!” She stopped, staring down the road as he caught up.

“I can’t think right now,” she said. “If I think, I won’t make it down this road.”

“Where will you go instead, if not down the road?”

“It’ll sound like madness,” she warned.

“That doesn’t matter.”

“It _feels_ like, if I think, I’ll just go right back to the asylum.”

“You never have to go back there if you don’t want to,” Gilbert said firmly.

Anne shook her head and looked back to the asylum. “I wonder if that’s what Esther thought when she left.”

She felt a hand go to her face, another in her hair. “Anne, look at me.” Gilbert had never seen his Anne like this, so filled with anxiety and fear, run down by her own imagination. “Tell me what I have to say to you to convince you that you _are not_ like Esther. Your life — our life— it will be nothing like that.”

Again, Anne shook herself free from his embrace. “I believe that you believe that, Gilbert, but how can you know?”

He let his hands fall by his sides. He knew Anne was going through something. He’d read, briefly, about psychoanalysis. He thought it could be very possible that people push things down to a place where they’re hardly real until the person has run out of energy or power to keep them back. But he also knew that her words hurt, and stirred something in him.

“You think I could ever throw you away like that, Anne? And our child—“

“We don’t have a child,” Anne told him sharply. 

“Esther did,” he reminded her. “And some man, he had a child, too, and he threw them both aside.”

“I know!” She nearly yelled. A bicyclist came out from a path in the woods, taking in the tense scene. He tipped his hat to Gilbert as he rode by. Anne lowered her gaze. “It’s not about _you,_ Gilbert,” she said through gritted teeth. “It’s about women! And men! And the things men can do to women!”

“But those things that men can do, the things that _scare_ you, they’re never going to happen with us.”

“But you are a man, and I… _I_ am a woman.” She lifted her arms to her head and walked in a circle. “And I am still a child in that asylum. I think I always will be.”

He moved to pull her out of the middle of the road so a cart could pass. 

“That’s ok,” he told her gently. 

She let herself lean against his chest, taking in the smell of the lavender soap Mary used for laundry. He cradled the back of her head to him.

“Tell me the ways I’m different from Esther,” she breathed.

“Matthew and Marilla,” he said quickly. “Everything from the blouse Marilla ironed so you’d look your best for our journey, to the pennies in your pocket Matthew gave you in case you were hungry. Esther… she must not have had any of that.” Gilbert felt Anne nod against his chest. He kissed the top of her head, hoping to encourage this line of positive thinking. “You have your education, soon you’ll have more. Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, Bachelor of Arts!” He said proudly. He heard her sniffle and rubbed a thumb along her temple in response.

He felt Anne step away and watched as she composed herself again, pulling back her shoulders and laying down her hair. 

“We should go on, now,” she said as she cleared her throat. “I truly think it will rain-“

“I have to tell you, before we drop this topic: you have _me_ , Anne, and I know what I have in you. I’ll never throw you away.” Anne gave a sharp nod but said nothing. “You understand?”

He watched anxiously as she bit her lip. “I love you… and I trust you, Gilbert.”

“All right, then,” he told her, turning to the road once more.

———

“But sir, we _have_ to get back to Prince Edward Island _today._ ”

“Do you know what happens when you run ferries during storms, boy?” The man looked down his nose at Gilbert.

“It’s not even raining!” 

“Not raining, yet. I’ve been doing this 23 years, making these calls. Do you think you know more about the weather than me?”

“I don’t think anyone knows anything about the weather, we know no science-“

“Gilbert,” Anne said, tugging on his jacket sleeve. “That’s it, we can’t leave tonight.”

“You’re just giving up?” He questioned. She shrugged. 

“We’re beaten.”

They looked at each other a moment as the reality of their situation dawned on them, the port closed, the ticket office shuttering. They stepped out onto the street, Gilbert dabbed a handkerchief at his face, the humidity suddenly oppressive.

“We’re going to need a plan for the night.”

“How much money do you have with you?”

They dug through their pockets. 

“$1.10,” Gilbert said quietly. They caught each other’s eye. 

It was Anne who said it. “That’s not enough for two rooms.”

Gilbert sighed, falling against the exterior wall of the ticket office. “It isn’t,” he agreed. “Listen, Anne, you should take the money and get a room. I’ll be fine-“

Anne laughed. “You think you’re sleeping in the rain by yourself? If you’re out here, so am I.” Gilbert raised an eyebrow. “I mean it,” she assured him.

“I don’t want you to be out here in the rain, Anne, please.”

“Why shouldn’t we rent a room for the night?” Anne questioned. “Our money’s as good as anyone else’s. So what, we can only afford one!”

“They won’t let an unmarried couple share a single room, Anne. Surely you realize this.”

“I know, but they don’t need to know that. Perhaps we’re brother and sister?”

“And do many grown siblings share beds?”

“Well, I suppose not…”

Gilbert closed his eyes, pulling his hat from his head and running his hand through his hair. “Listen, Anne,” he said after a moment. “I have an idea, but… you’re going to think I’m such a fool.”

“Want me to promise never to mention it after this is all done?”

His eyes shot open eagerly. “You’d do that?”

She shook her head, a grin on her lips. “Of course not, do you know me at all? But I’m sure I’ll still love you, no matter how foolish I think your idea is.”

He reached for an interior vest pocket. “I’ll hold you to that.” In his hand was a small velvet bag.

“What’s that?” She asked him. He held it out for her to inspect. She pulled the drawstrings and emptied the contents into her palm. They said nothing. He wondered if she understood. He watched her put the ring on. His breath caught.

“So you keep this in your pocket?” She asked casually, eyeing the ring.

“Yes,” he replied.

“For what?” She still wouldn’t look at him.

“Just in case,” he said casually. 

She looked at him with a reassuring smile. “Just in case we miss the ferry?”

“Anne…” 

“If I’m to be a bride,” she said suddenly. “I’ll have to put my hair up. I’m so grateful Marilla has let me start wearing my long skirts. I suppose she’d be scandalized at how I put them to use.”

They had no mirror, so they found an alleyway and Anne let Gilbert fiddle with her hair. 

He frowned. “It doesn’t look as it did that day you came to me in Charlottetown.”

She squeezed his hand in remembrance. “We’ll tell them we’ve had a long journey. Should we give a fake name?”

“Can’t we tell them Blythe?”

“And they say I’m the one with imagination. I think you, Gilbert Blythe, are fond of your own fantasies.”

“And so what if I am?” He challenged, lending her his arm. “I wear my heart on my sleeve for you, Mrs. Blythe.”

“You are a fool,” she told him. “But such a dear one.”

———

“Gilbert, they have _hot_ running water!”

“Do they?” He responded, untying his boots. As a response, he heard the sound of a faucet turning, a tub filling. A few moments after the water had been turned off, he heard the bathroom door open a crack. 

“I need somewhere to put my clothes!” Anne called. “Close your eyes!”

_“Would you like me to close my eyes now?”_ He remembered his own fantasy.

_“Yes, but just this once. Just this first time.”_ It was as though his heart jumped to his throat as he shut his eyes.

He heard the soft sound of bare feet on hardwood, then the closing of the door. He opened his eyes to a pile of clothes, her corset on top, stacked on the armchair beside him.

She’d been so close.

He could focus on nothing else but the soft sound of water being shifted and stirred as she bathed. He smiled when she began to hum. He was quick to the door when she called his name.

“Gilbert!”

“Anne, are you all right? Do you need help?”

She laughed in turn, her humor turning easily into song.

_Down in front of Casey’s old brown wooden stoop_

_On a summer’s evening we formed a merry group_

_Boys and girls together we would sing and waltz_

_While Jay plated the organ on the sidewalks of New York_

He laughed as well. “New York? Have you been off on an adventure you haven’t told me about?”

“What should stop us? We’ve tricked our way into a Halfax hotel. We should test our skills!”

His heart felt light. “You name the date, Anne-girl.”

_East Side, West Side, all around the town_

_The tots sang “ring-around-rosie,” “London Bridge is falling down”_

_Boys and girls together, me and Mamie O’Rourke_

_Tripped the light fantastic on the sidewalks of New York_

He knew she was singing even as she finished her bath, pulling the plug, toweling off. She knocked on her side of the door.

“You can come in,” he said with a chuckle.

“No, I need you to hand me… oh my, nevermind. Close your eyes again.”

He did as he was told, trying hard not to think about the fact that all she wore was his mother’s ring. 

Again he heard the door close and took it as the all clear. He began to take a pillow from the bed to prepare his armchair for the evening. He hadn’t heard her reemerge.

“What are you doing?” She asked from behind him.

He turned to see her in her linen chemise and quickly turned his head away.

“I’m making the chair up for myself tonight.”

“Why would you do that?”

“So you can have the bed?”

“Gilbert,” she reached her left hand out for his right. He saw the flash of gold and then brought his gaze up to her eyes. “Why would you do that? Surely you must know…” 

“Know what?” He could hear his voice, low and desperate even to his own ears.

“You must know that this is likely to be the only night we get like this. Alone. At least until…”

“Please, Anne, finish your thoughts. You’re killing me.”

“Until we’re married, Gilbert.” And with that her hands were at his chest, unbuttoning his shirt. His breath hitched as he felt her delicate knuckles against him, working lower and lower. When they’d all come undone, she looked at him. “Is this all right?”

“Anne,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t presume that…” She remembered his plea to finish her thoughts. “That you want me the way I want you.”

“No, no. I want you in _every_ way. But I can’t. Not yet.”

“Did you ever learn how people… do _not_ have children?”

“Anne, no, that’s too much of a risk—“

“So you know now?” She asked eagerly.

“No! I mean, yes, I do, but it’s not perfect, sometimes it doesn’t work.”

“What happens when it doesn’t work?” He looked down to her stomach. “I see.” She fell back against the pillows of the bed. “Are we doomed, then? To love each other so tremendously but have no way to show it?”

He took his seat on the edge of the bed, unsure how much he dared to say.

“I think about you every night,” he admitted quietly. “I think about what it would be like if we ever got a chance like this.”

“You do?” Her voice was an eager whisper as she moved to kneel beside him.

“Yes,” he said gently, taking her hand and laying it flat so he could trace the lines of her palm. “But now that it’s here, I feel I can’t make any of those fantasies — delusions?— real.”

She crawled still closer until she was nearly in his lap. To Gilbert she was all shining eyes and rosy lips, thin white linen and the smell of lilacs.

“You know, I was so frightened earlier today. Now I’m here in this extraordinary moment with you and I feel as though I could fly. Not a fear in sight.”

He was all worries. “Why do you think that is?”

“Well there’s nothing to it but me and you. And you may have seen, but I decided on the road to Halifax that I trust you, so there’s no turning back now.”

“You only decided to trust me four hours ago?” He knew his girl had an unusual way with words, but this admission stung a bit.

“I decided to trust you _implicitly_ four hours ago and my life has been all the better for it. It’s a very peaceful thing, deciding to believe that I have someone who will never wish me away, who will always want me to be exactly where they are.” 

He watched her fiddle with the ring. Somehow he brought himself to say: “You know, you don’t have to wear that anymore. There’s no one here to pretend for.”

“Well, I thought,” she began with a deep blush. “That perhaps _we_ could pretend.” They looked at each other a moment, both unsure how to handle this risky precipice. “So do you want to?” She whispered. “Pretend?”

He put a hand to her cheek, cupping her face. “It’s hardly pretend for me.”

Anne nodded in understanding. “Me too,” she mouthed.

He nodded as well, letting his hand fall from her face, trailing down her arm, taking her hand in his and gave the smallest tug. She took this, hesitantly, as an invitation to come still closer. Her chest was now pressed to his as she rested her head on his shoulder, looking up at him.

If Anne were to have written it all down, she would have said that time stood still and that the late summer twilight held them tight. She noticed how impossibly soft his lips seemed then, when there was no one to pull them apart, when no one need know.

Each night, Gilbert had imagined fire. He thought it would overtake them from the inside out, that he would feel its glow on every inch of his skin. Instead there was the cool lick of the night breeze coming from the open window and the dazzling flash of dry lightening. Together they reminded him that he could keep that fire at bay, that he should savor what he could take.

He felt her hand go to the back of his head, felt the gentle pressure and knew she wished he would lie down beside her. He knew he was so capable and so willing to be twisted and molded in whichever way she liked, and this worried him. 

He was able to pull away an inch or two so he could speak. “Anne, there are things that have to be said.”

“What do you mean? What needs to be said?”

“We can’t do everything that two people can,” he explained carefully. “You have to tell me what you’re comfortable with.”

Anne scoffed. “How about you tell me what you’re comfortable with? Because I _want_ you and I _trust_ you. I don’t know how I can make myself more clear. Don’t you believe me?”

“I believe you, Anne, but we have to be responsible. Please. Tell me what you want from me—“

She took his hand and put it to her hip. “I want you to touch me and show me that you love me, show me that you want me. Show me how our lives will be marvelous and the envy of anyone with sense.”

And he was just a man, a young one at that, eager to be in bed with a beautiful girl. There was just one thing left to say.

“I love you, Anne. God, I really do.”

With a smile, her lips were back on his, his hands in her hair. 

Her hands found the hem of his undershirt. He let her tug it off of him, let her move for his belt as his own hands wandered, feeling the smooth skin of her shoulder, grasping at the linen chemise as she gave an experimental tug of his hair. 

“Is that ok?” She whispered anxiously. He nodded enthusiastically and took to her lips again, greedy, desperate that she shouldn’t abandon him for long.

She was tugging at his pants now. He was suddenly reminded of the horrific anatomy lesson he’d given her at the start of their courtship, the start of all of this. _Well_ , he thought _, I’ll never have to explain again after tonight._

He reminded himself that he trusted that she knew what she wanted, trying to push down everything he’s been taught by his father, that he’d taught himself after he was gone. He smirked against Anne’s lips as he remembered the time Rachel Lind had announced at a church function that _Gilbert Blythe_ is an exemplary young man, a gentleman! 

He didn’t care about being a gentleman now, not really. He just wanted to be what Anne wanted him to be. 

“Oh!” She gasped, pulling him from his reverie. 

Anne hadn’t meant to say anything. She thought she could be grown up about it all, as though this were very normal. She felt wise and mature as anything as she went to open his pants. As they’d been kissing she’d felt him against her, of course, and knew what was happening. Knowing what was happening, knowing what was there did nothing to prepare her for the moment she saw _it_ , saw _him._

Gilbert chuckled nervously and she tried to quickly compose herself, reminding herself that it was _all_ just _him._

“You don’t have to do anything else,” he reminded her gently. She looked him in the eye, and lifted her knee, guiding his hand to the hem of her chemise. She smiled at him in encouragement. He was amazed his hands didn’t shake as he lifted the light fabric over her head and then quickly shimmied out of his own pants. 

They laid there a moment, smiling dumbly at one another before intertwining their bare legs. Anne let her hands move over his chest, tangling in the coarse hair that grew there. 

Her breath caught as his hand went to cup her breast, but the recovery only took a moment and she was kissing him deeper than ever. He pressed himself ever closer and laid her down on her back, realizing then that her direction had been to show her that he loved her, that he wanted her. 

Anne relaxed into the pillows as she watched dark curls travel lower and lower, feeling the hot kisses trailing down her body, her arms draped across his back. She wondered vaguely what came next. 

She felt his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. He looked up to her.

“Is it all right for me to touch you there?”

“There?” She repeated.

“Yes, here,” he said, moving his fingers just an inch closer to the most intimate part of her.

“Will it be nice?” She questioned.

He nodded. “I think you’ll like it.”

“All right.”

For the first time, she felt a bit nervous, felt butterflies in her stomach. She reached for his free hand, grasping for his fingers. She felt the tip of one of his fingers touch parts of her she had never been given a word for. With his hand there, she noticed for the first time how parts of her throbbed, how his finger slid so easily, how now that he was there she could only ever want more of him.

“Gilbert!” She called out suddenly. He stopped and looked up to her, waiting for an admonishment, waiting for her to tell him to stop (desperately hoping she wouldn’t). “I… I didn’t tell you I love you. But I do. I love you.”

He smiled sweetly at her, crawling back up her body to kiss her full on her lips, his hand still at that sensitive spot between her legs. She tried to keep her breathing even, but was half surprised to learn for absolutely sure that Gilbert was right: there was an opening in her body where they were meant to meet. She learned this as a gentle tip of a finger entered.

Her hand balled on his back, the other tightened its grip on his hand, her eyes wide. Gilbert looked at her, the question hanging between them.

“You were right,” she said in amazement. 

“I was?”

“We’re supposed to be together… in this way.” She let her hand go down to meet his in explanation. 

He smiled at her, he wondered if she could physically feel his happiness. He brushed the tip of his nose against hers and kissed her again, his fingers exploring further. Now knowing what she felt like, he worked hard to push his most lascivious thoughts from his mind.

But how he wanted to just have her, right there. And she could have all of him. She already had him, really, what could it possibly matter? What more could there possibly be to say? Why, she even wore his ring on her hand!

But he pushed that down.

Pushed that down until she moaned against his mouth. His body pressed against her’s in response.

Anne wondered if this was a dream, as her waking mind could _never_ have imagined these feelings, how parts of her she hardly knew existed could be made to feel so good. She wondered how he knew to touch her this way, wondered what she could do to make him feel similarly. 

Slowly she reached a hand down, finding the part of him with the name she hated. She wondered how she could think of it as her hand wrapped around.

Gilbert’s mouth stilled against her’s, so she immediately let go.

“I’m sorry, Gilbert,” she told him. “I thought you would like it.”

Finally, the fire Gilbert had always anticipated. He took her hand and put it back where it had been. He kissed her, open mouthed, hardly a recognizable version of himself, but so _desperately_ overwhelmed with love and lust.

It continued like that, her moans urging him on. He noticed her hands drop from his body, instead grasping at blankets at either side of her. Her lips were barely moving against his now.

She couldn’t concentrate. She grasped at the blanket as a lifeline, a bit scared, so uncertain of what was happening with her body. Her only thought that she could barely latch on to told her that her Gilbert was going to be a doctor, he surely would never to something that put her at risk.

For a minute she couldn’t decide if the sensation that was building felt _nice_ , just intense, overwhelming, world-building and world-shattering. 

He broke away from her still lips and looked at her. She realized _he_ knew something was happening, and she knew him well enough to see that he was pleased with himself. Boldly he grabbed one of her clenched fists and moved it back to him. His fingers inside of her quickened and she could tell he wished her hand would match his pace.

She wrapped her arm hand tightly around him, still so nervous, but so hungry to see this out, to understand what was happening. His lips were back again, willing her on, trying to communicate to her that she was safe, to just push on. He felt hopeful he could make it wonderful for her.

And there it was for both of them. They fell limp, their limbs sticky with sweat. They laid a foot and a half apart, catching their breath for several moments, linked at the ankle and one hand until the night air cooled them enough that they could press against one another again, side by side. 

Gilbert turned his head, looking at Anne. It was just as he always imagined: her red hair spread across the pillow like rays of the sun. 

She stared up at the ceiling, mind still for perhaps the first time in her remembered life. She turned to meet his gaze, having no words to say to this man beside her. She looked down to her linked hands and saw the ring on her finger.

“Can I keep this?” She asked simply, lifting their hands so he could see.

What a bizarre moment! What an exquisite moment! Her question and the look of vulnerability in her eyes made him want to laugh and cry. Could he have thought to ask God for any greater miracle than this moment?

He wrapped her in his arms and nodded, a tear actually coming to his eye. 

“It’s yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> Wow I kind of can't believe I wrote that. I've never written like this before, so hopefully I didn't put myself to shame! When I was younger and writing my own stories and songs as well fan fiction in other fandoms, I never thought I'd be able to write something like this, but then life and love come along and they are something, my friends! I've pretty much been daring myself to write this chapter since starting this story, so I'd really love to hear your thoughts on this.
> 
> Thank you for reading and thank you for all the kudos and kind comments, I eat them up <3
> 
> All the best,  
> S


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to those who skipped the last chapter! 
> 
> A brief summary: Anne was sad at the idea that men can throw women and children away, Gilbert promised that's not going to be her reality, and she decided to trust him.  
> The ferry to PEI is cancelled to due the threat of an impending storm. Anne and Gil only have enough money for one room for the night. Knowing innkeepers would never rent to an unmarried couple, Gilbert pulls his mother's ring from his pocket and gives it to Anne so they can pass as husband and wife. Turns out, he's been carrying it "just in case."  
> In the hotel room they grow closer emotionally, and they show it physically... you skipped that for a reason, but it happened!  
> When it's all said and done Anne asks if she can keep Gilbert's mother's ring. He tells her it's hers. 
> 
> And there you have it!

The storm never came. It was a soft dawn that woke Anne, her eyes first meeting with the unfamiliar ceiling, then the view of the large elm outside of the bay window. 

Then there were the black curls on the pillow beside her. She smiled, burying her face into her pillow, thinking of all the times her imagination had conjured that same lovely head beside her and how it had never done it so well as now. 

Of course there were parts of her that recognized the strangeness of the situation: this was not her gable room. In those first few moments of wakefulness, she could easily attribute this to her growing imaginary abilities. As always, she yearned to test their limits.

She buried her face into his back and breathed in. His skin smelt like man. The bed sheets beneath them were crinkled and hot from their body heat. The first sounds of the morning were bird song and they slowly pulled her to reality and she moved away from the boy.

He must have been moved by the bird song as well, as he turned, eyes still closed, his hand stretching across the sheets. Her heart fluttered to watch him reach out for her, even in the space between sleep and wakefulness. She placed her hand gently on his, pressing a kiss to his brow. 

He wrapped a tired arm around her waist and buried his head in her neck. She blushed to realize he would wake pressed to her still naked body. She considered letting herself imagine she was a bride, but decided against it. There would be a time for that, but there was still beauty in this strange moment and so she chose to dwell in it as long as she could. 

She felt his hand spread across the small of her back, felt his warm breath across her collarbones as he yawned, then felt as he stilled…

It would seem they’d reached another precipice, both unsure if the other felt regret, uncertain if the peace of the evening before could transcend the hours they’d spent asleep and meet them in this new day. 

It was Gilbert who dared pull away first. Anne fixed her expression in a way she hoped would be gently reassuring. 

Anne thought he looked younger like this, for a moment like the boy from that first day in the woods. But soon enough the way he looked at her changed and there was nothing boyish about him. She watched how the muscles moved beneath his skin as he moved his arm from her waist to prop himself up. She saw the romance in his eyes, a look she so adored. She found she could handle it here in the privacy of this room. 

She put a hand to his cheek and soon his hand went to cover hers, pulling it gently from his face so he could inspect it. There was the delicate band of gold with its blue stone. He looked at it quietly for several moments before raising his eyes to meet hers.

“Is this real?” He asked, tense and anxious. She was unsure of her response.

“It is to me,” she finally replied. “I want it to be.”

He laughed in relief and Anne joined him as he lifted the hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle, lingering on her ring finger.

They fell back into the pillows with smiles on their faces. After a few minutes had passed, he tapped the inside of her wrist to get her attention. 

“Can I ask you something?” She nodded her ascent. “What do you think about what happened last night? How are you feeling?” She knew him so well. He had that look on his face, the same one he’d get when he was playing doctor.

She smiled widely. “My heart is as strong as steel, and light as a feather!”

It really was more than he could bear. He had thanked God as he watched her sleep for those intimate moments they were able to steal together and prayed that He would spare her any feelings of shame or regret. 

“Truly?” Was all he could manage to ask.

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Yes, truly,” she said with a light kiss to his lips. “Perhaps we could do it again? Just one more time before we have to leave this place.”

“Since when are you such a temptress?” He asked her, pushing hair away from her face.“I so wish we had the day to ourselves, now that I know what it’s like, I can hardly stop myself from keeping you in this bed… but the Cuthberts are going to skin me. It didn’t even rain!”

“If they’re going to skin you no matter what, where’s the harm?” She pleaded. 

He pulled her against his chest, trying not to think about how he was unsure when he would ever feel her skin pressed against his again. “Oh, Anne,” he breathed. “We have to start our day. We have to make plans—“

“We already have our return tickets for the ferry—“

“Other plans, Anne-girl,” he told her gently, tracing the ring on her finger.

Suddenly it all became very real. She jumped back from his embrace, startled. 

“What’s the matter?” He asked, kneeling beside her on the bed. She pulled the sheet around her, suddenly very aware of her nakedness. 

“How do we even plan for our future, when our future is at the other end of medical school? So long! And you gone, so _far_ from me—“

“Anne, sweetheart, I’ve been thinking about it—“

“When did you have time to _think_ about it?” She cried.

He shrugged. “You fell asleep first. Now, listen. Here is the best case scenario: we’ve sat the Queens exams already. This all depends on us having done _extremely_ well, but with those scores in hand we can put in a late application to schools in several cities. We go wherever they’ll take us both. From there, Anne, you have free reign. Whenever you want to go through with a wedding, it’s your choice. Tomorrow, if you want, or when I’ve finished medical school and gotten a job if it makes you more comfortable. I’m sure you know… I don’t have much to give to you at the moment, but I have my share in the farm. It would be enough to keep us afloat through school.”

“What if you get in somewhere extraordinary and I don’t?” She whispered, afraid what he would say.

“It’s just as likely you’ll be accepted somewhere and I will not,” he reminded. “If that’s the case, Anne, I put it to you again. You should go wherever you like, even if I can’t be there. I won’t stop you. I’ll pray you come home to me, but I’d never interfere. If it’s me who’s the only one accepted… I await my instructions, as your liege man of life and limb.”

“Oh, Gilbert. Please don’t say that…”

“Say what?”

“Don’t say you’d throw away your dreams for me. I don’t want that. Of course, you would go… and I would pray you come home to _me._ ” She looked at her ring and thought sadly that she was tied to him, but he had nothing that tied him to her. “Some men don’t even wear wedding rings,” she thought aloud. “They own their wife but she has no claim to them.”

“I’d wear my wedding ring,” he assured.

“And in the stretch of time, however long it may be, before our wedding day?”

“Does this idea bother you so very much?”

She laid back down. “I am inherently a vain and self-conscious creature. I’m sure there’ll be nights, if we’re separated, where I’ll lie awake wondering over the glorious women who will offer themselves up to you not knowing that you’re spoken for.”

He laughed softly at this. “I doubt they’ll offer themselves up, but I certainly won’t accept.”

Unhappy with the answer, she rolled dramatically to look out the window. 

“Hey,” he called, pulling on her shoulder to bring her gaze back to his. “You have as much to worry about with me on the other side of the ocean as you do when I’m on the other side of the bed.” She looked at him, trying to push down her doubts. “I’d wear a ring,” he said suddenly. “If we have to part, I’ll wear it each day as you wear yours.”

“You’d do that?” He nodded. “But what if the other students or professors ask about it? It would be a lie to say you’re married if we’re not.”

He shrugged. “I’ll tell them a truth. Perhaps I’ll say I’m taken, or I’m devoted to someone.”

She looked at him in her strange way as though she were sizing him up. “You really do love me a lot, don’t you, Gilbert?”

He laughed as he kissed each corner of her face. “So glad you’ve caught on,” he said playfully. “But we truly have to get up now. I need time to start rehearsing”

“What do you have to rehearse?”

“The humble question I’ll ask Matthew and the desperate pleas I’ll make to Marilla.”

“Oh, no…”

“Oh, yes, Anne. I’ll still marry you if they say no, because what other choice do I have? I’d like to be happy. But I’d also like for them to be on our side in this.”

“I have to tell you, Gilbert: Marilla _knows_ whenever I’ve done something I shouldn’t have. She can sniff it out. She’s like a bloodhound. You’re going to go into that conversation and she’s going to some how, some way know what we did last night.”

“You look very nice when you blush, by the way, but if it’s true and she somehow knows, I’d think the worst she could do would be a shot gun wedding.”

“You’re wicked, Gilbert Blythe, I swear!”

“And you’ve agreed to marry me in spite of my wickedness, my darling girl!”

So they dressed for the day, running the warm water just to splash it at the other for a few moments. Glbert reveled in the tying of her corset, Anne liked the stubble he would normally have shaved away before she could see it. 

Soon enough they were stood at the door of the room, ready to leave. They both looked around, knowing that this was a place that would hold such an important place in their stories and in their hearts, and knowing it was unlikely they’d ever sleep in that bed again.

Gilbert bent to kiss her once more, open mouthed, careful not disrupt the pins that held her hair up for only the third day in her life. She wondered if she should wear it this way from now on, as it would be strange for a woman engaged to present herself as a little girl. She felt a brief tinge of sadness at the idea of abandoning her braids forevermore, but she soon reminded herself there was so much to gain. 

He pulled away with a smirk on his face. “I hope everything that’s transpired in this room is enough to tide you over until our wedding night, whenever that may be,” he said as he opened the door. “God knows it won’t hold me over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> I figured I'd try to follow up that last chapter with another as soon as I could. I was really grateful for all the nice things you guys had to say about that chapter, and it makes me so happy to hear that you look forward to these updates <3
> 
> I'm currently aiming to write another chapter tomorrow evening and have it posted very late tomorrow or Sunday morning.
> 
> Wishing you all the very best!  
> S


	13. Chapter 13

On and off. On and off again. Gilbert watched Anne stare out the window of the train, pulling at her ring over and over again, many times slipping it all the way off her finger and hiding it in her closed palm only to suddenly slide it into place again. 

He considered what could be the cause of her uneasiness. Ideas of shame, embarrassment, regret filled his mind. He allowed himself to imagine that she sat planning how to tell him that she couldn’t face telling anyone the news of their engagement, how she would place the ring in his open palm as he’d placed it in hers just the day before. 

And there he’d been! So proud to have his beautiful Anne on his arm as they travelled, how he loved to call her “Mrs. Blythe” in front of the innkeepers and the other guests. She’d even smiled fondly at that. But as they’d drawn closer to Avonlea, each step of the journey Anne retreated further within herself. 

She turned to him then. “Have you come up with an explanation for how this came to be?” She tapped the ring finger on her left hand against her knee to subtly signal to him what she was referring to. 

“I was going to tell the Cuthberts that we’d come to an agreement. It would be a lie to say I actually asked you to marry me.”

Anne’s face fell. “And the circumstances under which we came to this agreement?” She prompted. 

“Why not tell the truth when we can?” He asked. “We’ll them that we had an emotional day at the asylum that left us grateful for the other. It became clear… that we are the other’s future.”

He’d hoped that his words would move her, but she gave a small frown and shook her head. “Marilla will smell us a mile away.”

He put his hand on hers to still it. “Do you want to give that back to me?”

“No,” she said defensively. “I just want to be engaged and live in this bliss we’ve created and never have another living soul know, as they’re sure to have an opinion, and there’s nothing I hate more than an uneducated opinion, except perhaps having to educate them on the finer points of our devotion.”

“I’d say most people announce an engagement at some point in their lives, how can one have an opinion on _every_ engagement they hear of? A few people will be curious, I’d imagine, but they’ll be caught up in their own lives again soon enough, I’m sure of it.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Were you born with such optimism?”

He laughed. “You’re hardly a pessimist, Anne. I just refuse to let any pettiness ruin this for me, even your own.”

“I’m not petty!” 

“Worried about the little opinions of others? A bit petty, my friend.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “And what will you say if Matthew or Marilla tells you no?”

“I will literally tell them I’m going to do it anyway,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Politely, of course.”

“And if she bans us from seeing one another again?”

“I doubt that will happen-“

“But if it does, what’s your plan?”

“Well what are your thoughts on an elopement?”

“Be serious!” She hissed.

“You’re the one who wants to play ‘what if,’” he reminded her.

“I don’t want an elopement, what an ungrateful thing to do!”

“Ungrateful?”

“Ungrateful to Matthew and Marilla. It’s not the same for me as it is for other girls: there will always be things that I owe them, and one of them is to not run away like a thief in the night!”

“Anne, I truly do not mean to offend you when I say this, but you are making your own internal life harder than it has to be. Just focus on what’s happening in the moment. There’s nothing to concern you right this instant. Besides, there’s really only one thing you have to consider, the rest will sort itself out.”

“And what is that?” She asked. “What’s the one thing I should consider?”

“Whether you want to go forward into this next step of our lives tied to me.”

“What a way to phrase it,” she whispered. “But, yes. Yes, that’s why I so wanted to keep this, I think. I wanted to know that I carried a part of you with me wherever I went, a part that you gave to me.”

Gilbert smiled. “All right. Now I have the courage to face this.”

“You were worried this whole time?” Anne asked, aghast.

“Of course I’m worried: your mother can be terrifying.”

“I’ve always liked how you understood what it’s meant for me to be adopted. Even now, there are people who like to imagine me to still be alone, as though I weren’t sitting with my family at a church picnic just the same as them.”

The train began to slow as they pulled into the station. No sooner had Gilbert helped Anne onto the platform was her name being frantically called. The couple turned toward the sound, soon seeing Matthew Cuthbert quickly crossing the length of the train platform.

Anne ran to meet him. “Matthew, you look so tired, are you all right?”

In response the man wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest. “You didn’t come home last night,” he muttered above her head.

“I’m sorry to have worried you. They cancelled all of the ferries leaving Halifax, we weren’t able to leave until this morning!”

His eyes widened. “Why, I only gave you a quarter. Where did you sleep? Have you had any food? Gilbert?”

Gilbert took his place beside Anne. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Cuthbert. I know I promised I’d have Anne back by the end of the day but the company that runs the ferry thought it was going to storm. I pooled my money with Anne’s so that we could sleep at an inn.”

“Thank you for keeping my Anne safe, but two rooms at an inn must have cost you dearly. Come back with us to Green Gables so I can give you the rest of Anne’s half.”

“Thank you, sir, but I wouldn’t dream of taking any money off of you. Keeping Anne out of the rain and in a bed was no burden at all. However, I would like to come with you to Green Gables, as there’s something I’d very much like to discuss with you and Miss Cuthbert, if you’d be agreeable to it.”

Gilbert saw Matthew’s eyes flicker over to his daughter, then down to her hands. Anne blushed and quickly moved to cover her left hand with her right. 

“My,” he said quietly, face paled, eyes wide. He turned then back to the cart. Anne and Gilbert took this as their cue to follow. 

The ride was silent. As they approached the house, Anne excused herself to visit with the animals, letting the toe of her boot tap Gilbert’s ankle in what she hoped would be a show of solidarity. 

Gilbert took a deep, steadying breath as he descended from the cart and followed Matthew inside.

“Marilla?” Matthew called out. The woman emerged from the storage cellar holding a glass jar. “I think you better come with us into the parlor.”

She looked between the two men. “Why?” Another moment passed and in it Gilbert watched panic take over Marilla Cuthbert’s entire body. “Where is Anne, Gilbert?”

“Anne is fine,” Gilbert said gently. “She’s outside with the horses right now. They simply cancelled the ferries. I’m sorry for any scare we’ve given you.”

He saw her relax. “Then what is there to talk about?” Again, she looked between them in expectation.

Matthew put a hand on his sister’s back to begin leading her into the next room. “Marilla, this is a, uh, parlor sort of conversation.”

They took their seats in silence, Gilbert sitting across from the siblings. He removed his hat.

“Yesterday at the orphanage, I saw some pretty horrible things,” he began. “There was a young woman about my age there, someone that Anne knew. This young woman was _unpleasant_ and I could see how the memories she evoked scared Anne, but I could also see she really pitied her, because she was still there.

“And then there was the other girl. Has Anne told you about someone named Esther?” Marilla put a hand to her temple, clearly already weary from what she was hearing. “Anne told me, briefly, that Esther was an older girl who left the asylum and who had a beau, then came back one day telling all the other children ‘love isn’t enough.’ Anne asked the young woman who was left behind, ‘What happened to Esther?’ and the woman pointed to a little boy and told us that that was what happened to Esther. I’m sure you see the correlation.” Marilla looked out the window, Matthew stared at his lap.

“And you know how Anne is, she lives so much of her life inside her head, and usually there’s so much beauty there, but it was so clear that she was really suffering at this news. I tried to find words that would help, but it felt impossible, until she finally told me that she was frightened that _she_ could be cast aside. Cast aside by me, that is.

“I hope you both know that that is not something that’s possible. I hope you can see that in how I treat your daughter. I had always hoped that _she_ could see that I could never throw her away like that.” Gilbert paused, remembering the hurt he’d felt at this point yesterday. “Since we’ve started courting, and much before that, every thing I did for Anne, every word I said, I did and said with love. I love her. I feel so much more than that, but that’s all I have the words to express. 

“So I told her as much. I told her I knew what I had in her and that I could never throw her away. I gave her a hug, and she felt something in my vest pocket and asked me what it was. So I pulled out the little velvet bag I’ve been carrying with me since we began courting and I let her see my mother’s ring that was inside. She tried it on and asked me why I keep it with me. I told her the truth: just in case.

“She asked if she could keep it. I told her it was already hers.”

He could hear Matthew’s breathing getting rougher, saw as Marilla moved a hand to her face so that Gilbert could not see her expression. He wondered if she perhaps was crying.

“The ring was always hers, it will always be hers, if she wants it. But I wanted to come to you both, because I know how she loves you, and I can see how she is so grateful to have you and your love in return. I have always wanted to tell you _thank you_ for bringing Anne to Avonlea. She is the best of my life.”

At this point, Marilla’s head was in her hands, and Gilbert tried to give her privacy as her body rocked subtly. 

Matthew looked up, his own eyes wet. “Anne should be in here for this sort of thing.” And he stood and went to the door, hollering for Anne to come in. She walked

into the room looking much like a frightened young doe, saying nothing.

Marilla raised her head from her hands. It was clear then she had absolutely been crying. “Anne,” she reached an arm out, a gesture Gilbert had never seen her perform before. Anne came over and took her outstretched hand. “I have to tell you three important things.” Anne nodded, the tension in the room building. “You are more than just a wife,” Marilla told her, her voice like a plea, desperate to be understood. Anne nodded slowly, hearing the words and agreeing with them, but unsure of the importance Marilla was stressing on them. “Married women are rarely allowed to teach.”

Anne looked to Gilbert, silently asking him if he’d thought of this, if this was true. 

He nodded. “But it could be different. The world is not completely full of provincial one room school houses. There will be schools that will value you, Anne, I know there will. And we will seek them out, if that’s what you want.”

Anne looked back to her mother. “Marilla…” she whispered. She felt like a child, a young one, reaching out for instructions. 

The older woman patted Anne’s hand. “Maybe that’s true,” she said, leaning back as though she were very tired. 

“What is the third thing?” Anne asked quietly.

Marilla smiled, her face still sad. “Don’t make my mistakes.”

Matthew cleared his throat. “I’d like it if you’d give it a year,” he said. “Have at least a year to yourselves before you got married. See what you think of college.”

“Will you give your blessing for us to proceed? As an engaged couple?”

Marilla looked to Anne, face full of meaning. “Is this what you want Anne? In your heart?”

“I love him,” she said, voice filled with an emotion she hadn’t expected she would show in front of anyone, perhaps not even herself. “He is so dear to me.”

Marilla bit her lip and furrowed her brows, gently nodding. “You have my blessing.”

Anne turned to Matthew, awaiting his answer.

“Please, just the year,” he told her, standing and placing a kiss on the top of her head.

Gilbert stood as well, shaking Matthew’s hand. Marilla moved to embrace Anne. 

“Thank you, both,” Gilbert said. “No: thank you, all.” He squeezed Anne’s hand. “If it’s all right, I may come back later today, but I should go home now. They may be worried about me.”

Anne walked him to the door. “Will you tell them?” She asked quietly.

He smiled widely. “I’m going to tell everyone,” he said proudly. “But I’m sure they’ll be able to guess why I’m so happy.”

“You’ll come by this evening?”

“As long as I can finish all of the chores I missed yesterday, I’ll be back,” he told her. She nodded and he kissed her hand, but then thought better of it, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“I _love_ you,” he told her with a squeeze. “So much.”

She smiled, putting a hand to his cheek and then waving him on.

Before he’d even made it to the porch, Mary had flung the door open and then flung herself into his arms.

“Don’t ever do that to me again!” She warned him, holding him close to her, protective. “Do you have any idea how it feels to know you’ve got a kid who never came home?”

His heart swelled even more at her words. Bash stepped into the door way.

“What happened?” Mary asked as they walked in the door.

“The ferries weren’t running, there was supposed to be a storm. We stayed at an inn.”

Mary nodded and lead the way in, but Bash stopped him in the doorway, and eyebrow raised. 

“I know for a fact you didn’t have enough money for two rooms,” he said. 

Gilbert felt himself blush. “I won’t confirm or deny,” he said. “But it hardly matters now.”

“Hardly matters?” Bash echoed, following Gilbert in.

Gilbert ignored him. “Mary!” He called out. The woman quickly reappeared. 

Gilbert was sure he looked like a fool, but he could hardly care less. 

“The best thing that has ever happened to me, happened yesterday,” he told them. The couple looked between each other. “Anne’s going to marry me.”

Again, Bash and Mary looked between one another.

“But you’re eighteen,” she finally said.

Gilbert’s face fell. “Yes, I know, but I feel a bit older than that, with everything that’s happened—“

“Anne’s sixteen,” Bash reminded.

“Yes, but I also feel the same can be said for her—“

“You realize that students have _no money_?” said Mary

“Yes, but I have my share of the farm, and we won’t need much, as long as we can get scholarships. Perhaps it should be looked at as something positive, financially speaking: if we were married, there would only be a single bill for our rent instead of two.”

Again, a look was exchanged. “You don’t get married to save on rent,” Bash finally said.

This was not going as Gilbert hoped. “I know that, of course—“

“And what if children come? What will happen then to two students?”

Gilbert blushed. “Well, there are ways of being careful… I mean, I don’t see why we have to talk about that aspect—“

“You’re about to get married: you should be able to talk about that possibility.”

“Listen, if it makes you feel better, I can tell you both now that I’ve been down to speak with the Cuthberts and we’ve agreed to wait at least a year before getting married.”

Mary bent over to pick up Delphine. “That must have devastated poor Marilla.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why, Anne’s her baby. She’s losing her baby when she just got her.”

“But surely parents understand that they don’t _lose_ their children on their wedding day,” Gilbert reasoned. 

“Of course Marilla knows that, logically, but it’s going to _feel_ like it,” Mary explained. 

“Well, Gilbert,” Bash said, pulling a seat out for the young man. “Why don’t you sit down and tell us about why you’ve made this decision to get engaged. And Mary and I will listen.”

“Will you tease?” Gilbert asked.

“Not this time,” Bash said. “This is too important.”

And so Gilbert sat down and explained to his own family much the same as he explained to Anne’s but this time added in the fact that he was anxious to have a plan going forward, as he knew medical school was a long business and he did not want to part from Anne without a firm understanding. He is explained that he would rather marry Anne too soon then never at all, having let her slip through his fingers from his own lack of initiative.

And it was true. Even if things hadn’t fallen into place the way they had last night, Gilbert had still been planing to approach Anne and make his intentions very clear. He would not leave that island without her knowing that everything he did, he did for her. That the future he planned was only made whole if she were there.

Mary and Bash were silent, admittedly finding much of what the young man said very moving. But they found their young age and lack of resources extremely compelling as well. 

“You know that girl loves her puff sleeves,” Bash reminded. “There won’t be any money for puff sleeves for a long time married to you, Blythe.”

“Anne knows that we would have to live humbly,” Gilbert replied. “But I understand what you’re saying. Anne does love beautiful things. I can set a coin aside here and there, even if it means I go without a newspaper or new buttons if it means she’ll be happy. That’s nothing to losing her.”

“What makes you think you’re going to lose her if you don’t marry her soon?” Mary questioned.

Gilbert looked at his folded hands. “Anne is so beautiful,” he said. “I know, wherever she goes, there will be men lining up, eager to take my place.”

“You think so little of Queen Anne? You think she’d forget you?”

Gilbert shrugged. “She could. I’d imagine it’s hard to love someone from so far away. Perhaps it will be hard to love someone who does nothing but study as well. I already wonder, if we’re separated, what will I write in my letters? “‘Slept two and a half hours last night, memorized all the muscles in the throat’?” 

Mary reached a hand across the table to cover Gilbert’s. “I think if you’re apart, you’re going to be moved to tell her how you love her and miss her, which will be exactly what she would want to hear from you, believe me.”

Gilbert nodded, willing himself to believe her. 

“I’m glad you’re taking the year,” Mary said finally. “Because I would have asked you to do the same thing.”

“You think we won’t want to get married at the end of it?”

“No,” she replied. “I think you’ll mature and maybe be halfway ready for a marriage.”

“And the inn?” Bash asked in a low voice.

“What about the inn?” His wife replied, looking between the two.

“If you check the safe, you’ll find there’s barely any coins gone. Definitely not enough to pay for two rooms.”

“Oh, Gilbert….” Mary said, disappointment filling her voice.

“We didn’t have any choice, Mary!” Gilbert said in defense. “We needed somewhere to sleep. And I had the ring…” She looked away, covering her mouth with her hand. It was then that Gilbert realized that what happened to Esther happened to his own Mary. “Mary, I’m sorry,” he told her. “And I’m sorry for what happened to you. You won’t watch Anne go through that, though, I promise you.”

She nodded vaguely, looking away from him. “I’m glad you were safe,” she said finally. 

“I think that’s enough for right now,” Bash announced. “I’ll need your help fixing something in the barn.”

With that the two men stood, Gilbert still thinking of his Anne, Bash still thinking of his Mary. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, 
> 
> My brain turned off like two hours ago, I'm just going to go to bed, wake up, and then churn out like three more chapters because that's who we all are as people now apparently.  
> V interested to see whose face mask selfie will be chosen for the sidenotes in history textbooks in 60 years. 
> 
> -S


	14. Chapter 14

Anne stood at the fork in the path where she and Diana had met each day for school and split each afternoon, a point of beginnings and endings. She waited for her friend, perhaps more nervous to tell Diana all that had transpired between her and Gilbert than she ever was to tell her family.

Diana turned onto the path wearing a warm smile, though her happy expression was soon replaced by one of confusion as she took in her friend’s appearance. Anne wore a long skirt, her hair piled and pinned atop her head, her hands folded carefully in front of her. Diana grew concerned as Anne remained silent, simply smiling as Diana waved.

“Anne,” she said as she made her approach. “Why are you dressed like this? Didn’t we all agree that we would pin our hair up for first time on the train to Charlottetown?”

Anne nodded slowly and took a deep breath as the two began their journey to Miss Stacey’s home together. The Queens exam results were to be announced.

“That is true,” Anne carefully replied. “We did agree to that.”

“Then why is your hair up today? Jane is sure to throw a fit.”

Anne swallowed hard. “Something has…come up recently which has made it appropriate for me to begin wearing my hair up.”

Diana held out an arm to stop Anne, eyes narrowing. “Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, what is happening?” Slowly Anne unfolded her hands and held them out for Diana to inspect. “Lord in heaven…” Diana’s voice was a breathy whisper. “Gilbert?” She was astonished.

“Gilbert.” Anne confirmed. “Are you happy for me, Diana? Happy at all?”

“But what does this _mean_?” Diana asked instead. 

“It means what you think it means,” Anne replied, harsher than she’d meant.

“But what about school, Anne? Are you still going—“

“Yes, of course I am. I love Gilbert, but I won’t throw away my chance at an education,” Anne scoffed at the notion.

“So you’re coming to Queens?” Diana asked, desperate to get exact confirmation.

Anne looked away, unsure of how to explain. “Perhaps. If Gilbert and I both did well on the exam, we’re going to submit late applications to McGill, the University of Toronto, and some schools in Boston and New York.”

“You would go away? When I might have the chance to stay on the island?”

“Oh, Diana, I’m sorry. It may not come to it. We may not have done very well, we may not be accepted anywhere else. But I see now that I so _desperately_ desire a Bachelor’s degree. Can you imagine, Diana, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, a poor orphan, admitted to one of the most prestigious educational institutions in this hemisphere? I long for the pride of that, and I long to someday stand with… with my husband, a doctor, and know that I am well-educated. I am not his lesser.”

Diana was silent as the walked along, taking that in. “And you’ll want to be with… with your husband. So you’ll go.”

Anne took her friend’s hand. “Diana,” she said solemnly. “This does not lessen the love I feel for you as my dearest companion. No matter where I go, I’ll be just a letter away.”

“But not a room away, as we’d hoped as children.” Diana was sullen. 

“Maybe still,” Anne reassured. “It’s all about our scores.”

Diana dismissed this. “We all know you two will have done well. Besides: even if you come to Charlottetown, you won’t be living in a boarding house with the rest of us. You’ll be renting an apartment and living as a married couple.”

“No, Diana, we won’t. We’ve promised our families we’ll wait at least a year.”

“Really? You’ll be able to bear that?”

“We may have to. Perhaps I’m admitted and he isn’t, or vice versa. We’ve agreed we won’t turn down a remarkable opportunity, we’ll simply find a way to join the other as soon as possible.”

Diana frowned. “That will be very difficult.”

“I know that, but what other choice have we?”

“Anne… I ask this out of a place of love, not to scare you, but if you’re separated, how will you know he’s loyal to you? I know what you’ll say, ‘it’s Gilbert,’ but my cousin Susan said her best friend’s beau was enamored with her, but he came back home from Cambridge with… well, I’m not quite sure what it is, but Susan called it ‘syphillis.’ I didn’t want to seem thick, so I played along like I knew, and she said it was irrefutable proof that the beau had been unfaithful, and now the friend won’t marry him for fear of catching it herself… and heartache, of course.”

“I don’t know what to say, Diana, except, well, it’s Gilbert. He told me something that I thought was rather sweet, actually. He said he’d wear a ring during our engagement, as I do, if we’re separated.”

Again, Diana scowled. “Susan says a married man is as likely as any to be unfaithful, Anne.”

“Why are you saying this? Are you trying to frighten me out of my engagement?”

“No, Anne, I’m just trying to be an advocate for you—“

“I’m not like you, Diana. I don’t have beautiful raven hair, or wealthy connections. Every young man for miles could easily find himself in love with you. I love Gilbert, and I love him deeply. If I throw him off, I won’t love again.”

“Anne, I love you and I want your life to be peaceful and uncomplicated. Loving a man from afar is neither of those things.”

Anne quickly wiped at her eyes. She wouldn’t allow herself to cry. Instead the two marched on in silence once more.

“Do you remember how, months ago, we walked down this same path, so full of girlish excitement to understand the workings of Gilbert Blythe’s heart and mind? I feel a bit like a different person now.”

“Do you like who you are now?” Diana asked. 

Anne gave a small smile. “I liked who I was when I was alone with him. Diana, there’s something scandalous that I haven’t told you. I hope that giving you this _absolute_ confidence will make up for the shock and betrayal you may feel at my having entered this engagement.”

“Tell me as we walk, we might be late if we don’t keep going.”

“But are you prepared? This is the most _sensational_ tale that I have ever shared with you.”

“Then share it!”

“Well, this all takes place in Halifax, amidst the threat of an impending storm so fierce the ferries won’t run. And, so, Gilbert and I find ourselves stranded for the night in Nova Scotia with very little money, just enough for _one room_.” Diana squealed. “Please, Diana, don’t think less of me for what I’m going to tell you. Gilbert says it’s all a part of human nature, and… very normal for one to desire to do… what we did.”

Diana forgot her own advice and stopped in her tracks. “You didn’t.”

“We didn’t!” Anne quickly confirmed. “But… we did something else.”

“What else is there to do!” It wasn’t a question. 

Anne blushed ferociously. “Well, it was very romantic—“

“I didn’t ask that!”

“Well, you see, he, um, used his hands… and I used mine.”

“Were you _naked_?” Diana hissed.

Anne nodded. “Diana, there’s something you must know, but you _cannot_ tell any of the other girls.” Diana nodded enthusiastically. “There’s something that my body did, towards the end. At first it was terrifying, it felt like this tremendous pressure, I had no idea what was happening. I felt as though I had to hold on for dear life. But then, it stopped, and it was replaced by… why, I don’t know how I would describe it. It was just so wonderful. And afterwards I was so calm, calmer than I’d ever been in my life, and I felt so happy and loved, and so close to him. I truly can’t explain it, but I long for it to happen again.”

Diana took time to digest this new information. “What does Gilbert say about it? Medically, what is it?”

“I haven’t talked to him about it. It makes me rather shy.”

“Is this why you want to get married?” Diana asked quietly. “So you can do what you did?”

“No, well a little bit. But I just… I want him to be mine, and I want to be his.”

“I won’t lie to you Anne: I don’t understand this. But I’ll pray you’re happy.”

Anne realized that she wasn’t going to be given any thing more and so they turned into Miss Stacey’s yard. 

———

The room stared as they took in Anne’s appearance. She sought out Gilbert in the crowd, desperate for an out, but he wasn’t in sight.

“We should have come together,” Anne muttered to herself. 

“Anne,” Ruby finally said. “What’s going on?”

Anne ignored the question. “Where’s Miss Stacey?” She asked instead.

“Around somewhere, but Anne—“

“ _Anne Shirley!_ ” Josie cried out from somewhere deep in the crowd. “What is _that_ on your _hand_?”

Instinctively she moved to cover her left hand. “Where’s Gilbert?” She asked desperately. 

With that the door to Miss Stacey’s home opened again. “I’m right here, my darling.” He wore the biggest grin Anne had ever seen on him.

The room erupted in understanding. The boys surrounded Gilbert, shaking his hand and clapping him on the back while the girls swarmed Anne, pulling her left hand in all directions so they could each examine the ring, demanding she explain herself. 

“What’s this commotion?” Miss Stacey’s voice called from the kitchen. She emerged in the main sitting room and took in the scene, eyes landing on Anne’s appearance, face falling and saying nothing else. She simply put the tray of refreshments on the sideboard and retreated again.

The students ate and drank and asked the newly engaged couple more questions than Anne could comprehend.

Fifteen minutes later and Miss Stacey had returned, a thick envelope in her hand which she waved briefly in the air before tearing open and placing the contents on the table.

The young people were pulled from their line of questioning, moving instead to huddle around the table to learn their fates. Taller than Anne, Gilbert pushed through and found both their names, side by side at the top of the list.

She watched him anxiously. Before she could even see his expression, he was embracing her.

“Gilbert, tell me—“

“We tied for first. A _high_ first.” 

“Gilbert?” Miss Stacey called from the back of the room. Gilbert took Anne’s hand and towed her along. 

They stood in front of their teacher, her face stoic. “Gilbert, I’m going to contact my friend, Dr. Oak, at the University of Toronto with these results. She says she may be able to secure you a spot as well as a scholarship if we act quickly.”

“Thank you, Miss Stacey, so much. But Anne and I, we wanted to speak to you about this matter further, right, Anne?”

Anne cleared her throat. “Miss Stacey, it is my hope that you would put in a good word and a request for me as well. I have decided that I want to pursue a degree rather than a teaching certificate.”

“And,” Gilbert added. “As you may have heard from everyone’s commotion, our circumstances have changed. Anne and I are engaged to be married, and we’d like to begin our lives together in the same city.”

Miss Stacey’s face still wore a blank expression. “I see. Many congratulations.” 

“Miss Stacey, I know this is all a change, and perhaps not what you expected, but believe me when I say my primary reason for asking this favor of you is because I want to look at my reflection in the mirror and know I accomplished everything that a woman can accomplish in this world, despite where I’ve come from and what my life has been.”

Miss Stacey looked intently upon the couple. “I’ll write it for you, Anne, but I can make no promises as to the outcome.”

Anne nodded. “I understand.”

The couple turned back to their classmates. “Anne,” Gilbert said quietly in her ear. “I have a bit of bad news.” She looked at him with concern. “I did some inquiring yesterday and it would seem we’re too late to apply for the September term to anywhere but Toronto. It’s either Toronto or it’s Queens.” Anne took a seat on a large trunk, clearly upset at the news. “Perhaps if we aren’t both admitted to Toronto we could take the year off from school and apply for next year. Perhaps we could go on an adventure together,” he said with a smile. 

“We’ll be needed at home. We won’t be able to go on an adventure together until we’re married, Gilbert.”

“All right, let’s just leave this be until Miss Stacey gets her reply from Dr. Oak.”

Anne nodded in agreement. 

———

“Gilbert, can I ask you something?” They walked along their path a few days later, headed off to spend the afternoon quietly chaperoned in the front parlor of Green Gables. 

“Of course you can,” he said, warmth in his voice.

“Do you remember the night in Halifax?”

“Do I remember the night in Halifax? Yes, Anne, I do indeed. Do you have a follow up question?”

“Oh, you’re a tease. But do you remember what happened that night? Between us?”

He laughed softly before leaning down to whisper in her ear. “I’ve been surviving off the memory alone.”

Anne felt a shiver run down her spine, but pushed the sensation away. “Gilbert, I’ve been so confused. What was it that happened to me? That my body did?” He didn’t answer. “Gilbert?” She questioned, pulling on his sleeve like a child.

“It’s nothing to be worried about,” he eventually told her. “It’s just something a woman’s body does when she’s enjoying something… like what we did.”

“Is it something… it seems like a silly question, considering the illicit things we did, but is it something I should feel ashamed of?”

“Did you feel ashamed?” He questioned.

“No,” she answered. “I felt wonderful.”

“That’s your answer, then, Anne-girl,” he said with a squeeze of her hand.

“What do you think will happen if people find out what we did?” Again, Gilbert didn’t respond. “I suppose they’ll try to make us feel ashamed.”

“I suppose they would,” Gilbert agreed. “But they’ll never know.”

“But what if they did?”

“You really love this game, don’t you? What ifs… If they find out, I imagine they’ll be cruel, but I’d beg you to remember that what we did harmed no one and brought us a lot of joy.”

“Would we leave Prince Edward Island?”

“If you asked, I would leave with you so we could have a fresh start.”

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it,” he confirmed.

“Hmm,” she said. 

They heard a sound coming from behind them. Miss Stacey tore down the road on her motorized bicycle.

“I’ve just gotten a telegram from Emily!” She called as she pulled up beside them. She handed Gilbert the paper. 

He read it over silently then closed his eyes. 

“Gilbert, what does it say?” Anne demanded. He looked at her with pity. 

“Anne, I’m sorry.” She pulled the paper from his hands. 

DEAR MURIEL —(STOP)—

GOOD NEWS —(STOP)—

ADMISSION AND FINANCIAL AID IS AWARDED TO GILBERT —(STOP)—

ADMISSION OFFERED TO ANNE —(STOP)—

HUMANITIES FUNDING HAS BEEN EXHAUSTED FOR THE YEAR —(STOP)—

MY APOLOGIES TO ANNE —(STOP)—

EMILY —(STOP)—

Anne handed the telegram back to Gilbert and then turned on her heel, beginning her trek back to Green Gables in silent solitude.

It wasn't to be, though, as Gilbert was too quick.

"Anne, I'm so sorry-"

"I'm not!" She exclaimed. "Go to Toronto, Gilbert. I'll be right here."

"Sweetheart, you can't be angry about this, we've known this was a possibility from the start. We can work with this, it will be all right!"

Anne stopped suddenly and then turned to face him square on.

"I think I'm going to sob," she told him with solemnity.

He nodded and pulled her to his chest. "That's all right. This has been a disappointment. But it will be all right, it won't always feel as it does now."

"Don't you feel any sadness? Any at all?"

"Of course I do, Anne. I tell you all the time: I want you by my side."

"What will we do? What will I do?"

"We'll go to school," he said simply. "They let you into the University of Toronto! That's an amazing accomplishment, no one can take that from you, Anne! I would bet they'll let you in again next year. And the way Dr. Oak phrased it, it would seem you were denied a scholarship simply because the pot was empty by the time you got around to it. Won't you do a year at Queens and join me in Toronto next September? And then our year will be up, we could live together properly, if that was what you wanted."

She looked at him, eyes puffy from crying. He ran his thumb across her face to rid her of a few of her tears. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes," he said with a gentle smile. "Come to me as soon as you can, but don't wallow the year away for something we can't help."

She felt her stomach turn in knots. "Diana said her cousin's friend had a beau who came back from his college with syphilis. What is that? What if that happens to you?"

"Do you remember, months ago, when we were on this path and you asked me how babies come to be, and I asked you to bury me alive? I'd like to revisit that request-"

"I'll learn about it somehow, perhaps someday I'll even catch it-"

"I really hope to God that's not the case!" He said loudly. "It's nothing pleasant, and it doesn't reflect well on those who have it, I'll tell you that."

"But-"

"I'll tell you one thing: it is _impossible_ that I will get syphilis, and since I know that you are..." Gilbert took a deep breath. "You get syphilis if you take a lover who has it. As long as I am your only lover, you will not get it."  


"But what if you get it?"

"I won't," he said firmly. "You're not seeing how this is a circle. I will never _know_ any woman but you, and it is my sincere hope you have no plans to know any man but me, since we're getting married, if you haven't noticed. Because we are monogamous we will not be infected with syphilis, all right? And now, there's a wonderful lilac bush over there, it would be a fine place to be laid to rest."  She looked at him with suspicion. "You were the one who told me you trusted me implicitly," he reminded her. "Trust me on this. There will never be anyone else, not in my heart or in my bed. Just trust me before you give yourself wrinkles from worrying."  


"Sometimes I wonder how you stand me," she told him. "Don't I ever exhaust you?"

"I'll admit, I wish you had more faith in my loyalty to you, but it's worth the effort to tell you. I don't want you to be in your room in Charlottetown fretting over me when all I'm doing at that very same moment is reading a chemistry text or writing you a letter. It's just wasted energy."

"Please forgive me," she said softly. "You're loving and good, and sometimes I let myself push those truths to the back of my mind."

"There's nothing to forgive. Besides, I've already told you: I'll wear a ring all year. No one will be in any doubt of where I stand."

And so they threw glances down the path. The coast clear, they walked with their arms around the each other's waists, off to tell their families what would come to pass. 


	15. Chapter 15

The better part of the morning had been spent in tears. Anne cried as she dressed, cried as she ate breakfast, cried as she and Marilla tucked the last of her things into her trunk, ready for the journey to Charlottetown.

“Child, some perspective, please,” Marilla said as the third hour filled with sobs came to a close.

“How can you say that, Marilla? In just a few hours, Gilbert and I will be parted, forced to begin our long separation, and I’ll be left with nothing but the memory of him. Who knows when I’ll see him again? How long until I have him in my arms—“

“That’s enough,” Marilla said sharply. “I ask you to have perspective because I imagine you aren’t the only one suffering some melancholia in the face of this parting, but _you’re_ the one who’ll be surrounded by friends and familiar faces. _You’re_ the one who can come home on weekends. Think of poor Gilbert: he’ll be all alone in Toronto. He doesn’t know a soul. If you’re going to go through with this wedding in a year, take this opportunity, please, to learn that sometimes your feelings aren’t the most important in the room and to adjust your behavior accordingly!”

Anne’s mouth hung open, shocked at Marilla’s reprimand. Her words had been harsh, but Anne could see how there was truth in them. How many times had Gilbert comforted her, rubbed her back and wiped away her tears? So many times, and so often over things that were all made up in her own imagination! And here was something that was real. They would part, and Gilbert would board a train to a metropolis he had never before visited, to begin a very long and difficult journey all alone.

Her poor boy! Anne could be strong for him, she knew she could. 

Anne quickly wiped away the tears from her face. “You’re right, Marilla, this won’t do.”

When all of her trunks and bags had been loaded onto the cart, Anne looked back to Green Gables and wondered if Gilbert and all her other friends looked back at their childhood homes and felt the ground shifting beneath them as she did now. 

Anne was one of the last of the Charlottetown-bound to arrive at the station. As she stepped down from the wagon, she watched as Bash and Mary spoke to Gilbert, their faces serious. Mary handed something to Gilbert, then pulled him into a hug. It was a tender moment, especially when Bash wrapped his own arms around the two. 

The family said their goodbyes and Gilbert turned, his eyes searching for a flash of red. 

“Anne,” he said as he approached her, his face tired, his voice low and a bit raspy. He took her hand in his. “How are you?”

Anne forced a careful smile onto her face. “I’m fine! I’m excited for school, of course.”

“Oh?” He said, face falling a bit. 

“You must be excited to start school?”

Gilbert nodded with little enthusiasm. “It’s what I’ve wanted for so long now,” he agreed. Anne squeezed his hand.

“And now it’s here! You’re going to be a doctor, Gilbert!” Again he nodded as they began loading their belongings onto the train. She put a hand to his arm and squeezed. “I’m so proud of you.”

“You are?”

“I am,” she said sweetly. “And I know you’re going to have a wonderful time at school.”

He looked away from her and shook his head. “I’m so ungrateful.”

“What?” 

“Let’s just leave it be until we’re on the train, all right? I can see from here Marilla and Matthew are anxious to speak to you.”

Anne turned back to her family. Matthew pulled a small bag from his coat pocket. “For when you want to come home,” he told her before placing it in her hands. She opened the bag to see it filled with coins in small denominations. “It’s too much,” she told them.

Marilla put a hand on her shoulder. “You can come home whenever you like,” she told her simply before pulling her into a hug. “We’ll see you soon.”

Each family had a similar exchange. The conductor called and the young people boarded, leaving their families behind, some for the first time. 

“Do you want to sit with your friends?” Gilbert asked gently from behind her as the students filed into seats. Discreetly she reached behind her to wrap her fingers around his, giving them a squeeze. 

“They’ll be around the entire term. I want to sit with you and enjoy every second I can.”

Gilbert squeezed back twice. “I’m so happy to hear that.” 

They took their seats beside one another, a few rows away from the rest of the group. One of the Pauls whistled when he noticed that they had separated, a stranger tutted loudly and that settled the students. 

They sat close with the sides of their arms and legs pressed against one another, knowing that anything else would push too far.

“You’re so quiet,” Anne told him. 

“I know I should talk,” he told her. “I know we’re running out of time, but it feels as though I’ll say the wrong thing.”

“Then just speak to me as we normally do,” she encouraged. “You won’t say the wrong thing.”

“I don’t want to say normal things.” He shook his head. “I want to be alone with you and get my fill of you before I have to leave,” he whispered. “I want to tell you how much I love you and remind you that you have nothing to fear, and that you can write to me about anything.”

Anne lifted her skirt so that it draped across his leg as well, then buried their hands beneath it. “It sounds as though you’re already saying what it is you wanted to.”

“I want… I want another night like the one in Halifax.” They both blushed. “I don’t know how I’ll face another year of only seeing you with a chaperone, at holiday dinners. I know that it’s next to impossible to have another night like that, but would it really be so scandalous for someone to give us a couple of hours to ourselves so we can speak without fear of my brother listening, or Matthew walking in on us?”

“Well, Gilbert,” Anne began carefully. “Perhaps that will be the beauty of letters. No one can eavesdrop, we can say exactly what’s in our hearts, and the other can keep it and read it over and over again if there’s ever any doubt.”

“Will you actually do that?” He asked her. “Will you read my letters again when you’re feeling low?”

She nodded and rubbed her thumb up and down his hand. “I’m sure they’ll help keep me sane.”

“Please write to me often, Anne.”

“Will you do me a favor? Will you tell me even when bad things happen? I worry you’ll keep things to yourself so as not to upset me. Tell me when you’re frustrated or lonely.”

He nodded slowly. “You too, though. Tell me if things get difficult.” She agreed to this. “How are you so positive today? Don’t you feel what I’m feeling? Won’t you… _miss_ me as I’m going to miss you?”

“I just… I wanted to be strong for you, for once. I didn’t want to make it harder for you today.”

“I’m so selfish,” he told her. “But all I’ve wanted is to hear is that you’re going to miss me.”

“I’ll miss you everyday,” she told him. “If I think about it too much, though, I start to miss you while you’re still here. So please, let’s cheer up.”

So they tried their best, holding tight to the other’s hand, counting the cows and the horses as they sped through the countryside, Anne telling Gilbert what name she would give to each of them. 

Panic set in as the train came to a halt in Charlottetown. “Is this it?” Anne whispered.

He smiled, shaking his head. “I’d planned to leave my trunk behind the ticket counter. There’s an errand I need to run in Charlottetown. Perhaps you’d like help with your things? And then we can make my stop and head back to the station?”

Anne nodded, realizing there were only three little chores between them and their separation. 

The other girls looked on at Anne in envy as she was the only one who had help lugging her things down the streets of Charlottetown and into the boarding house. Gilbert smiled widely at all of them, he wondered if he would ever grow out of the thrill of teasing. 

And then they were off again, walking through Charlottetown’s commercial center. “I bought something my last afternoon with Dr. Ward,” he explained quietly. “I just have to pick it up now.” He stopped in front of a jeweler, she froze in place as she began to perhaps understand this errand. 

Gilbert stepped up to the counter while Anne remained a few paces behind, looking around shyly. She heard Gilbert give his name and the jeweler retreated to a back room, coming back with a black velvet box. Gilbert thanked him and returned to Anne, offering his arm to her as they left the store. 

“Gilbert,” Anne breathed. He just smiled fondly at her and continued their walk. Anne recognized the same leafy park that they had visited when she had come to tell him that she understood that she his Anne with an E. 

He lead her to the very same bench they’d sat at that day, and Anne’s heart raced as they took their seats. 

He was still smiling, sweet romance in his eyes as it was that first day. “I love you so much,” he told her as he opened the velvet box which revealed a band of gold. 

Anne’s heart was full. How good he was! How he kept his promises! How clear it was: he loved her!

She thought she may cry if she revealed all that was in her heart at that moment, so instead she told him: “You’re a good man, Gilbert Blythe.”

He nodded in understanding, sliding the ring onto his left hand and then offering it to Anne so they could begin their journey. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all!
> 
> This was a short little chapter, but I hope you still enjoy it. I'm VERY excited to begin writing their letters to one another. There's so much you might dare to say in a letter that you wouldn't aloud, when others might overhear ;)
> 
> Besides writing this story, my highlight of the day was hearing a cat I didn't know meowing from outside my window and realizing it sounded like he had been raised by ducks. I spent a while considering the idea that he spoke with a duck accent.
> 
> I can only hope for as much for all of you.
> 
> Wishing you well,  
> S


	16. Chapter 16

It took an entire day and a transfer in Montreal for Gilbert to reach Toronto. He rose stiffly from his seat, eyes squinting as he emerged into the golden light of a late afternoon in September. 

He dragged his trunk, seeking out a telegraph station so that he could send Mary and Bash word that he’d made it safely as he had promised. He yawned as he stood in line, the man in front of him changing his mind as to his message more than once.

His turn came.

“What would you like?” 

His tired mind took a moment to assemble a coherent message. “I made it to Toronto safely. Please get word to Anne, if you can. Love, Gilbert.” The clerk nodded, grateful for a straight-forward answer. Gilbert paid the charge and was off.

He exited the station and was surrounded on all sides by tall brown stones, each so close to identical in a way he had had never seen before. He had the address for the boarding house Dr. Oak had arranged for him, but very little in the way of direction. He dragged his trunk to a grocer, buying an apple and asking if the proprietor was familiar with the address. He directed Gilbert to continue on the same street, the boarding house on a corner a few blocks away in yet another brown stone. 

As he approached, Gilbert could see that many of the windows glowed with light, already filled with students. It was the first moment since he boarded the train that he understood the truth of the situation: this was really happening. 

He hauled his luggage up the steps and knocked. A thin woman in late middle age, gray roots coming through her ash blonde hair, answered the door.

“Blythe?” She said shortly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We were expecting you an hour ago.”

“I’m sorry, I had to send a telegram back home to my family.”

She didn’t respond, instead gestured him in. 

“My name is Mrs. Murray, this is my boarding house, and it is a business of _repute_.” She told him. “There are a few fundamental rules that all of the young men in this house must obey. Failure to follow the rules results in immediate eviction, and Mr. Blythe, I have been doing this for 31 years. I can read young men as easily as I can my ladies’ magazines and I _always_ know when a rule has been broken.

“Breakfast is at 8 o’clock every morning, dinner is at 7. If you will not be eating a meal with us, I require 24 hours notice. Quiet hours are from 10 in the evening until 7 in the morning. As I’ve told you: I understand young men, I have seen every sort of character that God has seen fit to instill in a man’s soul, and I know how each type behaves. You may do as you please while you’re out of doors, but I will be the only woman ever permitted in this house, do you understand?”

Gilbert moved to open a fire door for the woman. She caught sight of his hand.

“But perhaps it’s rather different for you, I don’t usually see married men here. Tell me: where is your wife?”

Gilbert smiled. She was the first one to make the mistake, and it lifted his spirits to be given a reason to talk about his Anne.

“My _fiancee_ is studying back home in Charlottetown on Prince Edward Island.”

“Peculiar,” the woman said simply, opening the door to his second story bedroom. 

Everything seemed to be in a shade of gray, with just a single window for light and fresh air. 

“You’ve missed dinner,” she told him. “See you at breakfast.” With that she closed the door, leaving Gilbert alone in his new gray room. He immediately moved the desk against the window. He took a bite of his apple. It was bland, tasteless, and the skin felt like thin rubber.

He spit it out and laid back on his bed, smaller than the one he had at home. There was hardly enough room to turn his head and imagine red flames beside him. He ran his fingers over his ring wishing with all his heart that he was in his sophomore year, in a small, warm apartment, and Anne would be there and they’d eat dinner whenever they wanted, then sit side by side as they wrote their papers, just as they’d done for years. And then they’d go to bed and they would be who they were at the inn in Halifax…

He rose from the bed and dug out a pen and paper from his trunk. He sat down to write, but before pen could touch paper there was a knock on his door. With a sigh Gilbert stood to answer it. 

A stocky young man stood on the other side. Without a greeting, he said: “You were the last one to get here. Classes start tomorrow. Why’d you push it so late?”

The nameless young man pushed in, inspecting Gilbert’s things. “I just wanted to stay with my loved ones as long as I could,” Gilbert explained. 

The man scoffed, then took in Gilbert’s appearance, a wicked smirk coming over his face. “Well maybe it’s different when you’re spending that extra time with a wife, eh…?”

“Blythe,” he offered up plainly. “Gilbert Blythe.”

The stout man extended a hand. “Bobby Alderman.”

Gilbert didn’t think he liked his visitor very much, but was able to muster a pleasantry. 

“So what are you doing in this hell hole? Where’s your wife?”

“Anne and I aren’t married yet. She’s back home, studying this year on P.E.I. Hopefully she’ll join me next fall to finish her studies.”

Again, Bobby scoffed. “Not even married yet and she has you wearing that? Well, there’s certainly some wiggle room. I know a great gal, Clara, I’ll introduce you. We’ll have you free of Amy soon enough!”

“Anne,” Gilbert corrected. “And I’m rather fond of her. There’s no need to introduce me to Clara.” 

“Just fond?” Bobby questioned, the same wickedness about him. 

“My brother says I’ve got to learn to hold my tongue sometimes. Strangers don’t always want to hear everything about my Anne, but I adore her. I’ll marry as soon as she’ll have me.”

Bobby looked him up and down once more. “You’re an odd one, Blythe. What are you in for?”

“In for?” Gilbert repeated.

“Yeah, what are you doing here? What are you studying?”

“Medicine.”

“Hell, you don’t do anything by halves, do you, fella? I’m just doing a liberal arts degree, the old man won’t let me get away with not going to college. Is your old man making you go all the way through medical school?”

“My parents are dead.” There was an off-putting silence.

“Hell, buddy, listen: I’m not usually like this. My girl just broke things off with me a couple weeks ago, and it’s been a hell of a summer with my old man. I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right, Bobby. No harm done. If you could excuse me, I was about to write a letter home.”

“To your Anne?” Gilbert nodded. “Tell her I say hello.” With that he turned and left the room. Gilbert found himself locking the door behind him. He sat down to his desk once more.

———

Anne had been attending classes for a week when Gilbert’s first letter arrived. She knew he couldn’t possibly be responding yet to her letter explaining her parents’ book which Marilla and Matthew had found for her and felt a tinge of sadness at the idea that they would always be just a bit out of sync in this way. But she was grateful to have his words all the same. 

Anne untied her boots, opened her window wide, and sat down on her bed to read his letter.

_My dearest,_

_I hope with all my heart this letter finds you well and reasonably happy. I say reasonably, as I understand that in many ways we are two sides of the same coin, and I am already filled with such intense and immediate longing for you. I wonder if you could say the same for me?_

_I promised honesty, and so I tell you this place is brown when it’s not gray. The other men in my boarding house don’t seem to mind it as I do, which makes me wonder if it’s simply another symptom of my heart sickness. I’m reminded of you as I think to myself: there’s so little scope for the imagination in this room of mine. This, of course, doesn’t mean that I won’t try to conjure you from memory to lie beside me in this bed._

_Would you be so kind as to send your poor, heartsick fiancé a photograph of yourself? And perhaps, if it is not too much trouble and if it will not interfere with the lovely way you pin it up, would you consider sending me a lock of your beautiful hair? It would provide me with such scope, my love._

_This is my first evening in Toronto. I have just arrived to my boarding house. The proprietor is a tight-laced woman named Mrs. Murray who would put your Marilla to shame. I’ve only made the introduction of one of the boarders (who only introduced himself after several minutes of pushing into my room, inspecting my things, and questioning my devotion to you) named Bobby Alderman, who asks that I tell you “hello.” Please pray that I meet some worthier individuals._

_Tonight I’m very tired, and more than a bit weary. I will try to sleep now and I’ll continue this letter after class tomorrow. Trust that I will fall asleep thinking of you._

“Oh, Gilbert,” Anne sighed as she turned the page. 

_Anne, today was a revelation! My first lecture of the day, anatomy and physiology, was dry, as you may imagine, and much of what the professor taught I was already familiar with from my time working with Dr. Ward. However, this afternoon I attended Dr. Emily Oak’s chemistry course. She spoke of her work attempting to reverse infection through medicine, and talked of how it would be used across the world. Injured soldiers wounded in battle could be saved the lingering death of infection. Newly delivered mothers may live to see their children grow up. If this medicine had been available, my own mother may have been saved. I plan to ask Dr. Oak if there are any small tasks she may have for me so that I can begin learning. I doubt she would have much use for a first year medical student, but perhaps her fondness for our teacher will work in my favor._

_I became acquainted with a handful of young men who are also studying medicine, as well as two young women! I was reminded of your reaction when Miss Stacey first told us of Dr. Oak. “A woman doctor…”_

_And now that I’ve written that, I can practically hear your “what-ifs?” and so I hope I can now put your mind at ease._

_The group saw that I wore a ring and soon asked over my wife. I explained that I had no wife, not quite yet, but that I have the most wonderful woman who has somehow decided she would like to marry a fool like me. There have been some peculiar looks sent my way, my dear, but they wear away soon and do not bother me in the least._

_I wonder how you speak of me to your new classmates? Or perhaps I haven’t come up?_

_Have you made any new friends? Admittedly, there are many parts of me that hope you will write back rattling off a list of names like Mary, Helen, Daisy, and Ruth but I wanted to take this moment to say that, when it comes down to it, I hope you offer your friendship freely, even if a few Edwards and Henrys slip in there._

_At this time, I don’t have very much to tell you. The food does not stand up to Mary’s. I think, when you transfer, you’ll be very satisfied with the university’s campus._

_My darling girl, I set my pen down just now, thinking my letter was complete and ready for the post. Sitting at my desk, I looked down the road at the nearest tree, some thirty yards away, and saw that the very tips of the leaves had turned the most vivid red. And my heart is moved to write to you once more. I couldn’t conclude this letter, our first, without setting a precedent for bearing my heart in full to you._

_As I think now of the miles that separate me from you, a chill runs through me as it did last night. I think I know now what it takes to feel an ounce of warmth again, which I’ll now describe, and I pray you forgive me if it scandalizes you._

_I hear your voice in my head singing as you did in that room in Halifax._

_“Boys and girls together, me and Mamie O’Rourke_

_Tripped the light fantastic on the sidewalks of New York”_

_I see you open up the door and walk up to me, like an angel in your white chemise. You come to me in this cold room, which, I should mention, breaks Mrs. Murray’s strictest rule. You become something of a forbidden fruit, Anne, and I love to take the risk in this fantasy of mine._

_You run your hand over my bedside table, as though using it to guide you through the dark room. I see you reach an arm out, waiting for me to take your hand and bring you to my bed. I take it and light the bedside lamp, and you glow as though heaven sent. I told you, that day you came to me in Charlottetown, that you’re a miracle. I mean it._

_You take your seat on the bed and your hands go to either side of my face, and even in this soulless place I can see so clearly that I am loved. And what a blessing that is!_

_Unlike our most beautiful night in Nova Scotia, in my mind, I am bold and I take hold of you as well. I remember your words as though they’ve been inked into my soul:_

_Show me you want me. Show me you love me._

_Would you blush to know the rest? Should I tell you anyway? You say you want honesty…_

_Soon we lie there much as we did on our night… our night, that's how I think of our time in Nova Scotia. Our clothing lies discarded on the floor and I tuck the blankets around you so you don’t feel the sting of this cold room on your beautiful bare skin. The feel of your body against mine is so warm and so welcome that I just lie there with you in my arms awhile. I tell you I’m so glad you’re here with me, and your voice comes again like a song, telling me how you’ve longed to lie like this again with me, how you’ve dreamed of being held in my arms._

_And I tell you how I’ve missed you, and how I wonder how something that causes so much pain in my soul could be the right path. And you kiss my brow and tell me the number of days until this term comes to and end and I can board a train bound for the maritimes and be where I’m supposed to be. Be who I’m meant to be._

_I tell you how I imagine I’ll snag small joys, perhaps even daily, and how I’m proud to be a medical student, but my soul is at peace only in the night, when I can conjure you once more. And then you kiss me deeply and I forget._

_Of course, my imagination cannot do your kisses justice, but I so try._

_Please, Anne, do consider sending a photograph and a lock of hair._

_My sweet, beautiful girl. My wife, some fantastic day. I love you. I love you. I love you. I miss you already._

_I conclude this letter by telling you that I am, as ever, your liege man of life and limb._

_Yours forever, ever more,_

_Gilbert_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone,
> 
> I hope that letter was everything you hoped it would be! It was very fun to write, and I can wait for more.
> 
> A really sweet commenter who goes by danny_the_coolest had an idea that perhaps we could share a daily highlight on these posts. It seems like a really wonderful way to build community during some pretty unprecedented times and so, to me, it seems like a really lovely idea.
> 
> The highlight of my day (and this is maybe a bit embarrassing but I've gone 23 years without backing down and I'm not about to now): my boyfriend of four years has always teased me because I pretty strongly believe in the paranormal (I saw a ghost as a child! I can't pretend I didn't!). His favorite gentle teasing weapon is to remind me that I'm going to be a professor someday and the paranormal and tenure don't necessarily go hand in hand (he def has a point but I don't care). But today he offered to try a ouija board with me (still undecided as I have had some spooky experiences), but I just like the idea that he is becoming slightly more open minded. 
> 
> And now you know that very particular way in which I am a bit "out there" haha
> 
> What is something that you were happy happened today?
> 
> All the best,   
> S


	17. Chapter 17

Gilbert sat at that long oak breakfast table with the rest of the boarders, trying his best to appear disinterested as the post was passed around. He had learned quickly that eagerness made you a target for the other young men.

Just yesterday a fellow called Alfred, perhaps Anne’s age, had beamed as he was handed a letter from his own girl. As soon as Mrs. Murray had left the room, one of the other boarders snatched the papers from his hands and read it aloud to the group.

“‘Come to my window Thursday evening at dusk. Mrs. Barrow will be at her sister’s for Bible Study. Come to me, my darling, we can do whatever you please!’”

The room erupted in raucous laughter, the man who had stolen the letter clapping Alfred proudly on the back. What would have been a scandal on the island was cause for celebration in Toronto, or at least amongst Toronto’s students. 

As Mrs. Murray had handed out the last of the boarders’ mail, she disappeared once more into the kitchen

“Jim, what’s your girl say? How’s she handling that longing of hers?” Again the men roared, even Jim himself, fists banging on the table.

“Christmas is looking good for me this year, let’s say that. She may just wrap herself up and give herself over. And I’ll thank you gentlemen to keep this between us so that Lucy over at Mrs. Randolph’s boarding house doesn’t catch wind of her competition!”

The men cheered once more. 

“And what about Mrs. Blythe? What’s she have to say?”

“It’s just a letter from my brother today,” Gilbert lied. He was so distracted trying to protect the letter that he had neglected the small parcel that had arrived with it. The man to his right grabbed it and tore it open.

“A redhead!” They yelled in ecstasy, and they were right. A lock of red hair secured by a cerulean blue ribbon fell gently to the table. Gilbert snatched it quickly, stuffing it into his pocket. The man who had stolen the package now held a framed photograph in his hands.

“Hey, Bobby, Mrs. Blythe’s a looker!” 

Bobby inspected the photograph with a frown. “She’s all right, but not nearly as handsome as Clara. Blythe, are you sure you don’t want me to—“

“Give me her photograph. Right now.” The thief considered his options, eventually handing the photo over as he hypothesized that Gilbert may have twenty pounds on him. 

From the other end of the table, a man called out: “Tell us: is _all_ of her hair red?”

Gilbert scowled and then retreated to his room. The laughter renewed behind him. 

He sat down at his desk, still furious from the indignity that he had suffered— that _Anne_ had suffered—down in the dining room. He sat down for several minutes, taking even breaths and counting to ten. He wouldn’t read her letter angry: her words were too precious.

And too far in between! It had been more than a week since he’d sent his letter, had the post always been so slow? This was his first letter from her and he wouldn’t let the fools he lived with ruin it. 

He remembered the lock of hair still in his pocket, eagerly taking it out. He held perhaps eight inches of red hair in his hands. He ran it between his thumb and forefinger, following the gentle curl. He picked up the letter and tore the envelope open with his one free hand. 

_Dear Gilbert,_

_Perhaps you didn’t anticipate such a simple address, but I assure you that your name is the sweetest word that I know. My poor friends, how they must grow tired of hearing me sigh your name until the close of the day._

_When we all part after dinner, I go to my room and read your letter, over and over, sighing your name even then, willing you to hear me in your own gray bedroom._

_But I want to write this in the proper order! I will begin by telling you all the things that are new to me. The first, of course, is the boarding house. Here, I’ll report to you, my dear friend and most darling man, that everything is comfortable. My room is warm and Diana is in the room next door. I can see in my own heart that I don’t want for companionship. I am so frequently surrounded by others that sometimes it can be dizzying.  
_

_Undoubtedly the most exhausting piece of my life right now, far and beyond the accelerated course work that I’m undertaking to better my chances of joining you in Toronto, is one Royal Gardener. I spent several minutes debating with myself whether to pen this or not, but you spoke to me with such honesty that I feel I owe you the same._

_Roy Gardener spins an outrageous tale, claiming to be the heir to a vast fortune based in Nova Scotia. He tells me he should really be at Oxford, as that is where all Gardeners go, but his mother requests his presence closer to home, and so he’s come to Queens instead. I know him from my literature class, where he made quite a wretched display of practically fighting Diana for the seat next to mine. Diana had the grace to let him have it, and I sat silently taking notes, doing my best to communicate to him that his presence was not wanted in general, and certainly not over my Diana’s! But he is a fool and he cannot take a hint._

_When the lecture had finished and I had risen from my seat, no sooner was he trailing hardly a foot behind me. That first day I ignored him and walked home with him at my heels. This was a terrible mistake on my part, as he now feels entitled to walk with me each day._

_Gilbert, I have tried everything I can think of to get him to leave me be. I have shown him my ring; I have told him your name; I have explained that (if you’re still keen) I will be married this time next year. I have even told him outright to leave me alone! But he persists…_

_What do you think I should do, Gilbert?_

“What a scoundrel!” Gilbert said aloud. “Perhaps my fist in his face will clear up Anne’s position for him!”

He heard church bells chiming from down the street, his daily reminder to begin his walk to campus. Reluctantly, he folded Anne’s letter away, promising himself he would be back to it as soon as possible. He locked his door carefully behind him, hoping not to catch the attention of any of his housemates. 

He arrived in front of the science building early, taking a seat on a low brick wall. He wished he brought her letter. Never before had he experienced this sort of isolation, as though his values were so completely out of step with everyone else’s around him. He had barely managed to strike up acquaintanceships with a handful of his classmates. He wondered how he had made his friends as a child and what could be done to make some now.

“Hello, Blythe,” a voice called. Gilbert turned to see that group of young people, three men and two women, part of the medical cohort. He smiled at them and lifted his hand in greeting. The group came to join him, shaking his hand jovially as they asked over each others’ courses. 

“Listen, Gilbert,” said one of the men, a sandy haired fellow named Peter. “We’ll all be going to the tavern at the corner of First and Claremont tonight at eight. You should join us.”

“We’re going to make it a tradition,” said Julia, who was small and rather doll-like. “Each Friday we’ll go and complain of the hell we go through just to someday call ourselves doctors!”

“And drink as much as we can stomach,” said the round-bellied Ralph with a smirk.

“It will be such a good time,” said Lily. Gilbert had the vague notion that Lily was perhaps the most traditionally pretty girl he’d ever seen, perhaps the model for the Gibson Girl. He wondered if acknowledging such a thing was disloyal to Anne and decided the thought could be permitted, as it was clear to his own heart that he would say Anne were the more beautiful. 

Gilbert agreed to meet them at the tavern at the appointed hour.

He finished his dinner early and began his walk back into town, wondering what this experience could be like. His only other drinking buddy had been Bash, and he imagined this would be a different thing entirely. But he was so eager for friends…

The others greeted Gilbert as he took his seat in the booth beside Hugh, who was shy and sometimes spoke with a stutter. 

Soon the alcohol was flowing and the students spoke of their frustrations, some about class, some very personal. 

Julia wanted to leave the Quaker church she had grown up in, though it supported her decision to become a doctor when so few other communities would. 

Then it was Ralph, who thought a professor may be discriminating against him because he was Jewish.

Peter worried over his mother’s health. He had seen that she had been coughing blood.

Hugh knew he would never live up to his brother’s accomplishments.

Lily spoke of her beau who had died of scarlet fever two winters before. 

Then it was his turn. Gilbert felt ashamed to lay out his own heartache after hearing his classmates’ woes, but he also felt rather drunk.

“I just miss Anne!” He said. “It feels ridiculous being out drinking like this, no offense, when she should be here! And I should be crawling home to her. We should have just gotten married. I should have told her I’d sell my half of the orchard to pay her tuition so she could come, too. She should be here…” he trailed off sadly. 

Julia patted his hand. “But you’ll see her soon. Surely she’s coming for the Thanksgiving festival next month?”

“Thanksgiving festival?” Gilbert repeated, feeling hopeful.

“Yes, the University is going to host something of a harvest festival over the week of Thanksgiving. People’s families come, their beaus, their _fiancees,”_ Lily explained. 

“My fiancee.” he repeated dreamily.

“Yes,” Lily answered with an amused grin. “You have one of those. Tell her she should come.”

“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes, you’re right. I have to go!” And he stood up quickly, reaching to put his hat back on his head.

“Where are you going?” Peter called.

“I have to go write to Anne!” Gilbert called back as he darted for the door. The medical students stared after him as he went. 

“That kid’s a fool,” Peter said matter-of-factly. 

“Yes,” Julia agreed. “But there’s something sweet about it.”

“Perhaps you three should try to be more like Gilbert,” Lily said with a smirk. “And then maybe we wouldn’t be the only two women you speak to.”

Gilbert rushed back to the boarding house and into his room like a man possessed. He dug through his drawers to find his stash of coins and cash. What could he sell? His room was so bare, but Anne would need help coming up with the train fare, and then money for a room in the city, for as many nights as they could possibly afford. 

He remembered then the letter, the one he hadn’t even finished. He willed himself to slow down, then carefully sat down at his desk, pulling the letter out once more.

_I await your advice on how to handle Mr. Gardener._

_But now, Gilbert, I have to tell you that my heart broke as I read how you were struggling. How difficult it must be start again in a new city so far from home._

_But I was so moved by the things you wrote to me, Gilbert. My wonderful man. You are loving and good. Reading your words was overwhelming in the same way it is to look you in the eye. I can see so clearly that you love me. I could feel it all around me in my room._

_I want to tell you now that I am there with you each time you lay down to sleep. As you imagine me creeping into your room in the dead of night, I do the same._

_As you fantasize about my kiss on your brow, I am in my own bed, but still there with you, thinking the very same._

_As you imagine my skin against yours, I imagine yours against mine._

_My hand is on your cheek. Your hand is at my waist. And you are not alone. I am there._

_All of my kisses have been sealed in this envelope. I washed my hair with my lilac soap before I cut the lock and tied it up for you. Does it smell of me?_

_When the man took my photograph, I thought of who we were in Halifax on_ _our_ _night._

_My sweet, handsome boy. My husband, some fantastic day. I love you. I love you. I love you. I miss you already._

_I conclude this letter by telling you that I am, as ever, your liege woman of life and limb._

_Yours forever, ever more,_

_Anne_

Gilbert pulled the photograph from his drawer, allowing himself to look at it for the first time. He saw his Anne as she had most recently appeared to him, in her blue dress and her hair pinned up. She wore a gentle smile. Feeling a fool, he brought the lock of her hair to his nose and breathed in.

Lilacs. 

He placed her photo on his bedside table and adjusted it so it faced him. He undressed and crawled beneath the scratchy blankets. 

He felt her hand go to his cheek again and allowed himself to dream of their reunion.

_One month, Anne-girl. I’ll wrap you up in my arms in one month. I’ll be in danger of never letting you go from me again._

_One month._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!
> 
> How is everyone doing and feeling? I hope you're well.
> 
> For some reason, I found it harder to write Anne's letter to Gilbert than his letter to her. I hope it's still all right!
> 
> To continue the new tradition of sharing a highlight of the day, something good that happened, here is mine: Tomorrow I am paying my deposit and accepting my spot at a dream graduate school, a school ranked in the top ten in the world. I was a first generation college student, things were difficult for me. But here I am and here I go. To boot, the person I love texted me in the middle of the day, spontaneously, just to tell me they are proud of me. 
> 
> Life is so challenging, but it's so clear to me that it can be scattered with these moments that can truly overwhelm you with happiness.
> 
> I read Les Miserables by Victor Hugo probably before I was old enough to really comprehend it and before I'd heard the musical all the way through, and though I'm not a very religious person at all, I've been thinking of Hugo's line: "To love another person is to see the face of God." 
> 
> I don't know where I'm going with all of this. Perhaps I'm hoping that any extension of kindness during these difficult times can bring people closer to some form of peace and understanding. I hope you all take an opportunity to sit and think about what is good in your life and then respond with kindness. 
> 
> Wishing you all very well,  
> S


	18. Chapter 18

Anne donned her hat and gloves, envelop in hand, and stepped onto the porch of her boarding house.

There he stood, as prim a dandy as ever there was. He raised a hand and waved to her from the sidewalk. Anne scowled.

“Not today,” she called out to him as she opened the gate onto the street to begin her walk to the campus. “I just want to be left alone to read my letter. It’s from my fiancé. Who I am engaged to.”

“Engaged isn’t married. A fiancé isn’t a husband,” he said smugly as he fell into step beside her.

“It might as well be for us. You haven’t got a chance,” she told him sharply. 

“Oh, don’t say that, Annie,” he told her, feigning heartache. “You might not realize it now, but someday you’ll be glad you threw off Albert while you could.”

“Gilbert! His name is _Gilbert_! And I’ve told him about you and how you won’t leave me alone, he’d very much like to meet you!” This was a bit of a lie, as she had told him of Roy’s behavior in her last letter, but she held his unopened response in her hands. She supposed, however, that Gilbert was of an honorable sort and could probably be prevailed upon to puff out his chest at Christmas if she asked politely. 

“I’m not afraid of someone named _Gilbert_ ,” he told her.

“And he’s not afraid of someone named _Royal_! I’d wager he has several inches on you,” she said in what she hoped was an intimidating way. “You know, if you follow me around like this, it’s going to cause a scandal. Your saint of a mother wouldn’t welcome me through her door!”

“I’ll explain to her the circumstances, she’ll understand,” he told her matter-of-factly.

“I have never said a pleasant word to you: why do you insist on pestering me so? I just want to read my letter!”

“I think perhaps I’ll wear you down. And then all of your pleasant words will be reserved for me, and there’ll be no more of those letters.”

“And if I disappear for a weekend and come back married, will you leave me alone then?”

He smirked. “We’ll see.” 

She stopped then, turning to him sharply. “Roy, listen: I will get married. I will move to Toronto. If you’re trying to bring a girl home, it should be one who isn’t already spoken for, one who can actually stand you. Whoever she is, bring _that_ girl home for your blessed mother! I’m going to hide in that lady’s washroom now so I can have a moment’s peace to read his letter. I hope with all my heart you haven’t become emboldened enough to follow me in there as well.”

“I’ll wear you down yet, Annie!”

She muttered her loathing as she stepped into the privacy of the lady’s restroom. Other girls, familiar with seeing the redheaded girl hide, threw her sympathetic looks as she tore open the envelope. 

_Anne!_

_Oh my sweet Anne, I can hardly contain my excitement as I write this to you! My classmates have told me that the University of Toronto hosts some sort of harvest festival for Thanksgiving. I couldn’t care less about any festival, but it’s an excuse for you to come. Surely you have the week of Thanksgiving free of classes?_

_Please, my darling: come. I’ve come up with enough money for a halfway decent hotel room for five nights, I’ll try to come up with more so you can stay longer. I’ve inquired at the train station and I’ve been told a round trip ticket will be $10.50. Have you any money, Anne? If you have no money to spare, go home to Avonlea and tear apart my bedroom. Nothing there is so precious that it can’t be parted with, not when the reward of having you here with me is so great. Sell anything you like, anything you think will fetch a penny._

_Honestly, Anne, maybe I shouldn’t say this, but I’m rather drunk and so I’m going to tell you exactly what I want._

_You._

_You’ve said before I’m wicked, and I’m afraid it’s true! Come! What is stopping us from playing the same trick we did in Halifax? It will be even easier in such a big city. I’ll give my name when I make the hotel reservation. We both have our rings, I doubt anyone will even give us a second glance. No one need know. I’ll tell my land lady I’ve gone home for the holiday._

_I should warn you that if you come, I may never let you leave that room, Anne! I can tell you this: you needn’t pack much, we’ll hardly be out of doors!_

_I suppose I know why there are all of those courting rules: you give a man an inch, he will gladly take a mile!Now that I know what it is to touch every part of you, I can hardly give it up. I’d so like to take it up as a new hobby! To say nothing of you touching me…_

_Oh, and how angry do you think our family would be if we eloped? Do you want to, darling? I’m sure I can come up with a pastor and a marriage license!_

_Hell, Anne, come be with me, you beautiful woman! Perhaps if we’ve got the nerve we could consider_ **_not_ ** _making a baby._

_With nothing but wicked, lascivious, and desperate thoughts,_

_Yours, & etc. (remember that?)_

_Gilbert_

She turned the page, face on fire. 

_Hello Anne,_

_It’s now the morning after I wrote the first letter and I have certainly sobered up. I wish I could say that I’m shocked at what I wrote, but in truth, I’m not. I think all of those thoughts and I feel all of those feelings. I know admitting to such excludes me from the title of “gentleman,” but I’m urged on by the memory of your instructions to me._

_Show me you love me. Show me you want me._

_Perhaps I’ve taken it too far now. Perhaps this is not what you want at all._

_It’s just that I think of you, and then I think of that Royal Gardener, and I think of how he knows nothing about you, how he must think of me as a ghost or something even less, a phantom a thousand miles away. I think how he may very well try to lay his claim._

_I would very much like to lay my own. I’ve been too bold for anyone’s good, Anne, butthe truth is simple and, for me, it’s unwavering: I want to make you mine in every way a person can._

_If you’re worried about anything— the money to get here, your studies, your reputation (should we behave as I so desperately want us to)— tell me, I’ll fix it. I’ll figure out a way._

_I should say, so there’s no confusion: I’ll be grateful for your company alone. If you come, you are under no obligation, nor do I have expectation, that you’ll let me in your bed._

_I do love you, Anne. I hope you come._

_Yours,_

_Gilbert_

_P.S.— Will you please tell Gardener that if he doesn’t leave you alone, I’ll be happy to make his acquaintance on the 18th of December when I come to collect you in Charlottetown? I suppose he’ll follow you to the station when you come to meet my train? As good a place as any for introductions, I’d say. Tell him I see no reason why you require a forced escort to and from campus! Until then, be sure to remind him how big and scary I may or may not be, perhaps it won’t even come to it._

Anne looked up from his letters, noticing for the first time how heavily she was breathing. 

Her mind was already running a thousand miles an hour. In a moment, she was out the door. Roy jumped from where he had perched himself, trailing quickly behind her. 

“Where are you going?” He asked her breathlessly. 

“To see how much my gloves with fetch,” she told him, quickening her own pace.

“Do you need money, Anne? I can give you money.”

She laughed. “And you’ll offer your money up so I can go spend a week with Gilbert?”

He stopped, face falling. Anne was so surprised by how hard he’d taken her admission that she paused as well.

“You’re going to Toronto?” She nodded. “All I need is a fighting chance, Anne. Please don’t go.”

This wretched pest of a boy, how pathetic he seemed now. She looked at him sympathetically. “Roy, I’m truly not the girl for you. I’ve no manners; everyone says so. My family is not rich. My parents are an unmarried brother and sister who adopted me when I was thirteen. You don’t really want me. You just think I’m an interesting mystery, but Gilbert knows my soul. That’s why I’m marrying him, and why I can’t be called upon to marry you, or anyone else.”

He thought about this a moment. “I don’t know about that, Anne.”

She realized she had exhausted her sympathy for him, and so turned to continue her journey.

An hour later and a dollar richer, Anne returned to her boarding house, on the hunt for Diana. She found her in the hallway, unlocking the door to her own room. Anne called out for her friend in a frantic whisper to avoid the attention of the other Avonlea girls. Diana gestured Anne on and into her room.

In truth, Diana had grown weary. She had never expected this time in her life to play out as it had, having always understood herself to be destined for finishing school, separated from her peers, reading Anne’s letters of her time finding herself in college from an ocean away.

But here they were, together at college, with Anne having decided she is already found, her dream of being the bride of adventure all but abandoned in her wake as she ran straight into the arms of Gilbert Blythe.

But she had encouraged this, she knew. She’d told Anne: decide you love him. And she did. And here they were.

How do you lose the person you’re closest to to someone else? Diana struggled to do it gracefully and knew she’d struggle as she stood beside Anne next summer when the time finally came for them to split. Diana had thought that it was rather like she was the father of the bride, giving Anne away. 

“What is it?” Diana asked patiently. She watched as a blush rose up Anne’s neck and onto her cheeks. “Another letter from Gilbert?” Diana grinned, but partially hoped it wasn’t so. It had been so long since they'd spoken of anything else, or so it seemed. 

“Oh, Diana,” Anne began, just as she always did. “I can’t let you read these ones, they’re far too much, but I need your advice.”

“All right,” Diana agreed, just as she always did. 

“Gilbert has asked me to come visit him in Toronto for Thanksgiving,” Anne explained. “He says… oh, please don’t think lesser of him for saying this, but he says he’d like us to play our Halifax trick again.”

“Your Halifax trick?” Diana repeated. “Do you mean he wants to share a room with you again?”

They both knew that what he really wanted was to share a bed. _That_ was the Halifax trick.

Anne nodded. “He does.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea? I mean, you were lucky you were never caught the first time.”

“Who could tell on us? No one knows me there,”

“Yes, but people will know Gilbert. And I’m sure they’ll remember the redhead he had on his arm in the hotel lobby when you transfer.”

“It’s a big city, Diana. What are the odds anyone will recognize us in a hotel lobby?”

Diana relented. “But what about you, Anne? Does… the Halifax trick, does it make you happy? Does it make you feel good about yourself?”

Anne didn’t have to think. “It was the most wonderful night of my life so far,” she told Diana. 

“Hmm,” Diana replied, feeling tired. “And you’d like to have it again? Or more?”

“I was thinking,” Anne said, biting her lip. “Perhaps it would be good to go and… live together like that for a week. It would be a good way to know for absolutely certain that I want to get married.”

“You’re not absolutely certain right now?”

“No, I am!” Anne said quickly.

“Then just admit: you want to do this because you want to do this.”

“Maybe… but why on earth would Marilla and Matthew agree to let me go?”

Diana frowned. “I doubt if Gilbert’s father was alive he would need to ask permission to travel.”

“What are you saying?”

“Are we our parents’ daughters until the day we become our husbands’ wives?” Diana said with passion. “When is it our time to decide for ourselves? Surely, your time is now, Anne: halfway between your parents and your husband.”

In some ways, Diana could hardly believe what she said. Why did she push her friend further and further away?

Perhaps Diana had changed. Perhaps staying with those she loved wasn’t the priority anymore, but she hadn’t decided what was.

“Perhaps you’ll have a mild case of the flu during Thanksgiving and it’s best you stay in Charlottetown so as not to spread it. I’ll cover for you.”

“You would do that?” Anne asked hopefully.

“I just want you to be happy, Anne,” Diana said with a shrug. “And if playing that Halifax trick is what makes you happy, I suppose I’ll help make it happen.”

Diana wondered if she was helping at all, or sealing a nail in Anne’s coffin. This, she kept to herself. Seventeen was an odd year. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone,
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. For those of you who predicted absolute, complete, sheer stupidity: very well done. 
> 
> My highlight today was probably the new discord the orayofsunshine (who writes New Courage, which I recommend!) created. It's just a type of chat room for AO3 people. Please feel free to check it out! The more, the merrier!
> 
> https://discord.gg/YqSMFYp


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone,
> 
> Just a little warning: this chapter is what I would call SLIGHTLY risque. There's no sex, just some undressing that might be something some readers want to avoid.

Friday morning dawned dully, a pure gray October sky blanketing the island. Anne wrungher hands anxiously, her trunk packed beside her. She began to pace, willing herself to have the courage to make a move, one way or the other. 

Her eyes lingered on the embroidered pillow. She moved quickly to her desk and penned a quick note before putting the dressing gown on over her nightgown. She feigned weakness as she went down the staircase and entered the dining room. 

She made a show of handing Diana the letter.

“Diana, I think I’m ill. I won’t travel home today. Please bring this to Green Gables and tell them _that you understand I have the flu._ ”

Diana nodded at this pointed instruction, taking the note from Anne.

With this Anne turned to go back up to her room and dressed. She watched from beside the window as the house emptied for the day. When the coast was clear she dragged her trunk outside.

“Anne, where are you going?” Roy had lingered around a corner longer than she had thought possible.

“Home,” she told him shortly. “And I know for a fact you need to go to class. So go.” 

“And you? You have the same class!”Anne ignored this. “Can I help you with your trunk?”

“No.”

“Would you let Gilbert help you?”

Anne smirked. “Depends on the day.” Anne stopped short as she realized that she couldn’t allow Roy to follow her any further: she was bound for the ferry to Nova Scotia, not for the train station as she would be if she were going home to Avonlea.

“What’s the matter?”

“What if I told you I don’t like boys who skip class? That Gilbert has never skipped class a day in his life?”

His mouth hung open. “Is that true?” 

“It absolutely is,” she lied. “He was always the first to arrive to school and the last to leave.”

Roy nodded slowly in understanding. “Have a nice trip, Anne!” He called as he sprinted back to the campus. Anne laughed and filed this new knowledge away for future use: perhaps she just had to tell him what Gilbert would and wouldn’t do and she’d finally have that stupid boy under control.

In Halifax, Anne bought her ticket for the first train to Montreal, her purse considerably lighter than it had been when she begun her journey.

“Goodness, child,” a man’s voice muttered from behind her. She turned to see an elderly gentleman. “Going all alone, all the way to Montreal? Why, you can’t yet be eighteen.”

“Actually, I’m going still further, on to Toronto.”

“Alone the whole way? Why, a true adventuress!” Anne smiled happily. “Could I have a ticket for the seat beside this young woman?” He turned his attention back to Anne again. “I’m sure you’ve a mother or a father who would appreciate you having someone to watch out for you on this journey. Why, my own granddaughter could be your twin, and I know I’d hope someone would offer her a hand if she were to cross halfway across the continent.”

“All right, then,” Anne agreed, offering her hand. “What should I call you?”

“I have business in Montreal, and everyone there will call me Mr. Lawrence. But you? Why, you can call be Grandad, if you like. All the young people do.”

“Do they, really?”

“Yes. My wife used to say I collected a grandchild everywhere I went. It isn't something I can truly help, though. I was an orphan. I know what it is to be young and on your own, even if it’s just for an hour or a day.”

Anne’s eyes widened. “Sir, I feel we may be kindred spirits.”

“Are we, indeed?” He asked as he paid for his own ticket. “And what should I call you, my young kindred spirit?”

“Anne, but with an e… Anne Blythe.” Her voice caught a bit at this unfamiliar introduction. She wasn’t completely sure why she lied. Perhaps, she reasoned, it would be best to begin practicing the fib now to make the Halifax trick all the more convincing. They wheeled their trunks to the train, handed their luggage off, and took their seats. “I’m an orphan, too,” she told him earnestly.

“Well, I’m very sorry to hear it.” 

“Oh, it’s quite all right. I have the most splendid parents now. I was adopted a few years ago and I was given a chance at the most blissful childhood. I went to school, and now, someday, I’ll be a woman of letters! And I made the dearest of friends.”

“A very fortunate child! You hold tightly to them. Each of them is an immeasurable blessing. Now tell me: if you are so attached to your new home, what waits for you in Toronto?” Anne blushed deeply. “Oh my, I know what that is. A young man, certainly?”

Anne nodded. “I’ve been given the greatest blessing in my Gilbert,” she told him. “My…husband. He’s a medical student at the University of Toronto. Gilbert is also, sadly, an orphan. And a kindred spirit.”

“Well, he’s very lucky to have you as his family, my dear. And very lucky you’ll make the great trek to see him for the holiday!”

The train rattled on. Anne stared off into the distance, admiring the softness of the Quebec countryside, which was painted orange and red. As darkness descended and Grandad slept, Anne couldn’t convince herself to sleep. She was enamored with the idea of travel and wouldn’t dare miss a hill or a pond. Besides: whenever she shut her eyes, the train jolted, a sensation that almost made her scream in shock the first time she had dozed. 

At noon the next day, the express to Montreal pulled into its station. Anne’s mind was already tired, but she said her goodbyes and dragged her luggage still further, onto the next platform and onto the train that would take her on to Toronto.

Alone, Anne took her seat, wondering again why she lied about being married.

It was twilight when she awoke, train whistle blowing to signal their arrival. She blinked and rubbed at her eyes, her limbs still heavy from sleep.

She descended the steps of the first carriage, staring down the platform for a few minutes as the crowds dispersed, nervous to move for fear of missing Gilbert.

But soon enough, there he was, cutting and weaving through the passengers. 

“Anne!” He called out. As he approached she reached out her arms for him.

He collided with her, the force of it nearly knocking her off her tired feet. They were wrapped in each other’s arms, Gilbert’s hand cradling the back of her head to his chest as he always did. They stood like that quietly for a minute until Anne wiggled her head free, looking up to him, her ear pressed to his heart.

“Hello,” she said gently. 

He looked down to her, a blissful smile on his face. “Hello.”

She pressed her face once more into his chest, taking in his smell. After a moment he let her go, stepping away to grab her trunk and then offering his arm for her. She leaned into his side, thankful for the support.

“How was your journey?”

“Long,” she replied with a chuckle. “I’m so tired.”

His lips pursed as this as they turned to walk down the platform. Anne saw a group of people waving vigorously. She looked behind he. No one was there.

“Are those people waving at us?”

Again, Gilbert pursed his lips. “Yes. I’m sorry, but they insisted on coming so they could meet you.”

Anne looked up at him, anxious. “But Gilbert, I’ve been traveling for nearly 30 hours! I must look a mess, what will they think of me?” She quickly pulled at the sleeves of her coat and attempted to smooth down her hair.

“You don’t look a mess. You look… very nicely disheveled.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Anne looked again at the smiling group. They were perhaps fifty feet away now. Her eyes opened wide in horror.

“Gilbert, you didn’t tell me that one of your friends was _extremely_ beautiful!” She whispered.

Gilbert thought it best to play dumb. “Which one?”

“Gilbert, no!”

But it was too late.

Julia and Lily reached out for Anne, pulling her into an embrace. Anne blushed and looked to Gilbert for explanation.

“It’s Anne with an E!” One of the boys called out while she was still in the girls’ arms. “I’ve never known a woman who could get a man to wear a ring before the wedding!” He said jovially.

She turned to face the rest of the group. “Oh, why, it was Gilbert’s idea, actually,” she said quietly to the strangers.

Gilbert blushed deeply. “Was it?” Asked the beautiful girl, a wonderful smile on her face. 

“Gilbert’s so obviously a hopeless romantic,” said the other, smaller girl. “You’re very lucky, Anne.”

“Oh, yes,” Anne said vaguely, unsure why she was being subjected to introductions and commentary on their engagement so soon after arriving.

Blessedly, Gilbert intervened. “Listen: Anne told me that she’s very tired. I’m sure you’d like to rest?” 

“Oh, yes,” Anne repeated. 

The group waved the couple off and went in the opposite direction.

“You didn’t tell me,” Anne mumbled as the walked.

“Hmm?” Gilbert replied, the smile still on his face. 

“You didn’t tell me she was so pretty,” Anne mumbled, this time a bit louder. “Much prettier than me.”

“I don’t think anyone’s prettier than you,” he told her simply, fixing his gaze ahead. 

“Are you very good friends?” She asked in what she hoped was a casual way.

“Me and Lily? We’re all friends. We spend time together in a group.”

Anne nodded, leaning further against his arm, willing herself to remember to question him further once she’d had some rest. “Are we far from the hotel?” Her voice sounded hoarse.

“One more block,” he told her quietly. She nodded against his arm. “You didn’t sleep on the train?”

“I couldn’t for most of the trip,” she told him. “I stayed up all last night.”

The entered the hotel lobby. “You can go sit, Anne. I’ll check in.” She fell into an armchair, her head resting against one hand. She looked up to watch Gilbert speak with the hotel clerk, saw the clerk’s eyes flash over to her. She tried to give what she hoped was a reassuring smile. 

“And could we have a second set of keys for Mrs. Blythe?” she could hear Gilbert say. She smiled and closed her eyes.

In a moment he was with her again, a gentle hand on her shoulder. Her eyes opened and she rose from her seat, dreamily following Gilbert as he lead the way to an elevator. 

“Fifth floor, please,” Gilbert told the boy working the lift. He reached across and took Anne’s hand. “Almost there, sweetheart.”

Again she followed him down the hallway, waited patiently for him to unlock the door, then dumped her body onto the double bed.

She heard Gilbert chuckle as he locked the door behind them. “You don’t really want to sleep in your nice dress, Anne.”

“I do. I’m so tired.”

“I can help you take your dress off.” His voice was quiet and confident, and immediately Anne’s body buzzed with electricity. She sat up.

He smiled warmly as he took his spot beside her. She nodded her head to let him know he could do as he’d said.

He began pulling pins from her hair, though the locks fell in tangled knots, a product of her travel. He ignored this for now and pushed her hair over one shoulder, now beginning on the cloth covered buttons that ran down her back. She knew she wasn’t graceful in how she shrugged her shoulders so the garment would fall off and pool at her feet.

She began to untie her corset cover. “Could I do that, please?” He said in the same quiet, confident voice. She felt her mouth water and her breath catch. Again she nodded. 

She turned to face him, watching his face as he gently untied each of the fastenings. He gestured for her to stand, and again he untied the petticoat she’d worn beneath her skirt. She knew she was blushing in spite of herself. She tried to remind herself that he had already seen still more of her, and compared to what he’d seen, this was positively modest.

In a moment she was left in just her corset and chemise. He laid a kiss on her shoulder as he began to undo the hooks on that as well. He smirked when he heard her gasp.

He moved to her trunk, opening it and removing her hairbrush. He sat behind her, carefully brushing the knots out and humming a lullaby out of tune. 

And then Anne’s mind was working quickly. “You too,” she told him suddenly, reaching up to remove his coat. He stilled her hands. 

“I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“ _What?”_

“I have to go back to the boarding house.”

_“Why?_ ” She demanded.

“Anne, you have to say it,” he told her with gravity. 

“Say _what_?” 

“I’m not going to put words into your mouth on this one.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say—“

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

“I want you to stay!” She cried out. “I’ve come all this way, stay! Stay here with me!”

“The whole week?” He questioned.

“Yes! Stay! I want… I want us to be as we were that one night. I want you.”

Anne watched as his eyes darkened, and a moment later, he was on her, her body pressed beneath his on the bed, his lips everywhere.

She raised her arms so he could remove the chemise. 

She tried again to undress him, undoing the knot in his tie. Again, he stopped her.

“I do have to go, Anne,” he told her. “I need to get my things.”

“Don’t,” she whimpered. 

“I know, I’ll be back soon.” He put a hand to her cheek. “Rest now, perhaps you’ll be ready for more once I’ve come back,” he told her with a wicked grin.

She nodded vigorously. 

She heard the door open and close and laid awake several minutes: what was _more_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again,
> 
> Here's another chapter, and not at midnight EST! 
> 
> Basically I have food poisoning, which is actually my blessing of the day, because it means I didn't have to work, but got to write instead.
> 
> Hope you're all well. Next chapter promises to be scandalous.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> VERY IMPORTANT
> 
> This chapter will contain scenes of a consensual, but very sexual nature between Gilbert and Anne. 
> 
> Please feel free to skip this chapter if that's something you're uncomfortable with!

Gilbert quickly descended the steps of the brownstone, carpet bag in hand, eager to leave the boarding house behind, if only for a week.

He thought he was in the clear. He thought he could keep his promise to Anne, that no one need know.

“Blythe!” He heard several boisterous voices call from behind him. “Where you going?”

Gilbert stopped in his tracks, took a moment to carefully arrange his face into an expression of indifference, then turned to face the young men he lived with.

“I’m going home for Thanksgiving,” he told them.

“That’s odd,” Bobby commented smugly. “Since we just saw you leaving the train station with a little redhead on your arm.”

“She looked a bit dazed,” Jim commented with a smirk. “What did the good doctor prescribe? Something to make things a little easier for him?”

Gilbert felt the unmistakable urge to throw a punch. Instead he balled his fist and told them: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The men laughed, and it became clear that they were all a bit drunk.

“He’s got Mrs. Blythe locked away somewhere so he can have his way with her all week!”

“Except she’s _not_ Mrs. Blythe! He’s just as debauched as anyone!” They let out their familiar roar of laughter.

“It’s not like that with Anne,” Gilbert said sharply.

“And why’s that? Because she’s got a ring on her finger? Why, Jim’s girl back home has a ring, too! It doesn’t mean anything. None of it means anything.”

Gilbert shook his head. “Someday you won’t be happy living as you do,” he told them.

The group looked amongst themselves and laughed. 

“We’ll adjust our behavior accordingly!” They mocked.

Gilbert turned and continued his walk, unsure of what would come of all this. 

“Just admit you’re no different from the rest of us!”

Gilbert walked on, casting their cruel remarks from his mind.

But _was_ he any different? He considered this carefully. He’d lured a young girl away from her family in secret with the intent of stowing her away to hopefully “have his way with her,” or so the saying goes.

Had Jim really given his girl a ring? And yet he carried on with Lucy down the street… Gilbert reasoned that, eventually, most of the young men from his boarding house would marry. Would they love their wives? Would it matter to anyone else if they did? Was all truly set right with a marriage certificate, and not a moment before?

A wedding in a church and suddenly something toxic is transformed into something godly. Or so it goes. 

Did it matter that he loved Anne? Did it matter that he truly wanted to marry her, not just because it’s the things to do? Someday he could say truthfully that Anne was his wife, and it would ring out as the greatest blessing he’d been given. And other men would gesture to their wives, and they would feel nothing.

Was there any language available that he could use to communicate to people what was in his soul? _I love her_ was his mantra, but it didn’t matter. On paper, he was the same as the rest of the boarders. He realized he lived in a world that didn’t care to look into men’s souls. 

But did the world see Anne’s soul? They would judge her, if they knew what they did together, he was sure of it, but did they see how she cherished him? How she loved him?

He felt quite low as he entered the hotel lobby once more. He decided to take the stairs, not in the mood to be locked in a small elevator with a stranger. He pulled his key from his pocket and quietly opened the door.

In the darkness he could make out Anne’s sleeping form, splayed across the bed, her nightgown billowing around her.

He crossed quietly to the bathroom, leaving the door open a crack behind him so she wouldn’t be startled by the noise. He turned on the electric light and splashed water on his face.

“Gilbert?” He heard a small voice call out, unsure.

He stepped out of the bathroom to reveal himself. “It’s just me, Anne.” She sat up in the bed.

“I could hear the noise from the sink, and my dream turned it into a torrential downpour.”

He took off his shoes, his jacket, his tie and climbed into the bed beside her.

“What had you been dreaming of before?” 

Anne loved when he spoke to her with this gentleness. “You,” she told him with a smile. 

He rested his cheek atop her head. “Really?”

“I dreamed it was our wedding day.” Her voice was shy.

“How was it? Did you enjoy the festivities?” He teased.

“I liked when I got you alone,” she breathed, looking up to him. She hoped she was able to communicate the same romance through her eyes as he could.

Gilbert took closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Let’s get some sleep,” he told her. “So we can have a full day tomorrow.”

“But—“

“It’s still the middle of the night, Anne.” He forced a laugh. “Let’s just rest.”

He held her to his chest, still thinking on right and wrong.

———

He woke before Anne, unhappy to find himself in a similar mood as the night before.

He rolled onto his back and looked to the ceiling, as though God was better found there than the east wall of the hotel room. Why was he struggling to reason through this? He’d been so sure of himself in the weeks leading up to this, he had felt infallible. Could the words of fools be all it took to pull him from his happiness?

He looked to Anne. Was he mistaken? Were there rules in place for a reason? Was the difference between good and bad simply in whether the rules were obeyed or not?

He felt disdain for his housemates and all the rules they broke, though he doubted any of them had taken their lies and rule-breaking quite as far as he did.

But then he thought of his Anne the last time they’d had a night like this.

_“Would you like to pretend?”_

_“It’s hardly pretend for me,_ ” he’d told her. And he meant it.

She began to stir beside him. She watched as she stretched her back, a bit cat like. He smiled sadly, thinking he wasn’t supposed to know what she looked like first thing in the morning. 

She rolled over to face him, already grinning.

“Hello,” she told him happily.

“Hello, Anne,” he said, moving to get out of the bed. She reached out for his hand.

He thought she had something so young about her face in that moment when she asked: “Where are you going?”

“I’m just going to go start getting ready for the day,” he told her quietly. She scrambled to the edge of the bed.

“No,” she nearly whimpered. “No, don’t do that.”

“It’s morning now, Anne-girl,” he tried to say with a smile. “Time to get up.”

She bit her lip. “But you said…”

He could see how he was disappointing her, but in that moment he felt weary. He understood he shouldn’t get back into that bed unless he knew, without a doubt, it was the right thing to do. 

“What did I say?” He replied gently, turning to his bag to gather what he needed to shave.

“Is this because of Lily?” 

He shot straight up, moving quickly to kneel beside the bed. “No, Anne, of course not,” he told her as he took her hand. She didn’t look at him.

“She’s so beautiful,” came Anne’s voice with a crack. “And a woman doctor! What a remarkable thing,” she said sadly. “Your equal.”

“Hey,” he said. He put a hand to her cheek to try to get her to look at him, but now that he had her attention he hardly knew what to say.

“Hey, what?” She asked him. “Why didn’t you warn me? You know… you know _me_.”

“I didn’t think there was anything to warn about—“

“I don’t believe you. There must have been a moment where you thought, no matter how innocently, ‘Lily is a beautiful woman and I spend time with her. Anne is coming, maybe she’d like some reassurance?’” 

“Anne, I don’t…” But he didn’t know how to finish the thought. “I have _you,_ I don’t think of Lily or any other woman that way.”

“You don’t even think of me that way,” she said, crossing her arms impetuously.

“What are you talking about?”

“The letters you wrote to me, I thought you wanted me! But here you are, so ready to crawl out of this bed at the first opportunity!”

She began to cry then. “Anne, I’m sorry. It’s not what you imagine it to be.” Still, she wept.

He had never voyaged into this territory before, where he had been the one to make her cry. He was at a loss.

“Would you like me to draw you a bath?” He finally ventured. She didn’t respond, but he felt the need to be useful. 

Anne watched him stand, feeling quite alone. She heard the squeak of the taps, then the sound of water running. She wiped her eyes, a desperate plan forming. She tiptoed to a mirror, running a brush quickly through her hair. She almost left her reflection behind, but then thought better of it. She undid three buttons of her nightgown.

She entered the bathroom, back against the doorframe. Gilbert was bent over the tub, testing the water. She undid one more button for good measure before bending over the tub and running a hand through. She looked him in the eye, watched as his gaze darted quickly to her partially revealed chest and then back up to her eyes. 

“I think it should be warmer,” she told him. He nodded slowly, his flickering low once more. 

She sat on the edge of the tub, twirling a ringlet around her finger, letting her nightgown fall off one shoulder while Gilbert fiddled again with the taps. After a minute or so he stood.

“All right, that should be fine,” he announced.

She stood as well. “All right,” she agreed, trying desperately to will herself to maintain eye contact while she unbuttoned her nightgown.

Gilbert watched hungrily for a moment before regaining his senses. He reached out his hands and placed them on hers, stopping her from going any further. He tried to give her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. 

“Enjoy your bath, sweetheart. I’m just going to step out here.”

“Gilbert,” she whispered. “What did I do wrong?” 

The look on her face broke his heart. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he told her. “It’s just I’ve been thinking that perhaps there’s an order to how things proceed and we— I— have been rather bad.”

“You think we’ve been truly _bad_?” Her voice was nothing more than a breath.

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he repeated, trying to shield her from any shame he himself was feeling.

Her eyes went wide. “But you have? _Lily_?” Her voice was like a hiss.

Gilbert felt the blood drain from his face, understanding her question, her accusation, with horrible clarity.

“No, Anne, _never_.” His heart pounded. How had he come to be in this position? He’d done nothing but love her. He had exactly two hopes for his life: to become a doctor and spare lives, and to love his Anne. _What a wretched sinner_ , he thought with irony.

“What did you say just now?”

“What?”

“What did you call yourself?” Gilbert saw how her face had changed again. Where a moment ago there had been confusion and hurt, there was now concern.

“A wretched sinner,” he repeated. He gave up then. He would tell her whatever she wanted to know. “The other men in my boarding house are horrible cads. They’ll lure any young girl they can into doing anything they can. How am I any different from them?”

Anne bit her lip before taking his left hand and lifting it for him to see. She said nothing else, just looked at him with sympathy.

He looked down to their hands, then to Anne. There was something in her expression that seemed more mature than when he’d left her. 

“I remember when you told me,” she said gently. “‘ _It’s hardly pretend for me.’_ ” He cradled her face. “You don’t really think you’re a wretched sinner. Your sins are the same as mine. You don’t think that of me, do you?” He shook his head. “We’re here, as we are, not from any real choice of our own, right? We would be married if we could be. We’re doing as we’re meant to, _honor thy father and mother._ We’re not married because Matthew has asked us to wait—“

“Anne, that's not a very good argument. I don’t think that when Matthew asked us to wait, he’d envision that would result in something like this.” He gestured to her nightgown, still half open. “All but married.”

“‘All but married,’” she repeated. “What’s so wrong with that?”

“That’s not supposed to be a step,” he told her. “It’s not ‘courtship, engagement, all but married, married.’”

Anne shrugged, sitting again on the edge of the tub. “I’ll believe you when you can look me in the eye and call me a wretched sinner.”

“What?”

“Go on. If you really think this, tell me that’s what I am.” He waited several moments. 

“I’m not ever going to say that.”

“I thought so,” she told him. She began to unbutton her nightgown again. He stood still, shocked. She let the gown fall from her frame and reached a hand out to him. “I’ve come such a long way to be happy with you. Let’s be happy.”

His thoughts muddled, he took her hand. She stood again, moving to unbutton his shirt that he’d slept in, a smile on her face.

“To think you told me off for almost sleeping in my dress, look at you!”

He had given in, he’d let her do what she pleased. He told her as much.

“You’re right, Anne,” he said, running a hand through her hair. “Of course you’re right.”

But he still looked so glum. She let her hands fall. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, realizing suddenly that her stopping was nothing that he wanted.

She lifted a leg high to step into the tub. Instinctively he reached a hand to her bare back to steady her. 

“You can do the rest yourself,” she told him as she sat down in the warm water.

“Am I coming in there?” He questioned.

“Yes. I’ll put a penny on my being able to hold my breath underwater the longest.”

And Gilbert was back to being young, still a school boy, ready to compete against Anne at anything (and perhaps, if he were feeling generous, let her win). 

He was quick to undress, stepping into the warm water at the opposite end of the tub. Anne pulled her knees to her chest to give him room.

They smiled at each other, both so happy to have landed on something uncomplicated, something so like _them._ And hadn’t that been what they were so desperate to achieve? To be who they were?

She reached through the water and got hold of his hand. “All right, we should squeeze the other’s hand when it becomes unbearable so they know it’s time to come up.”

Gilbert agreed to this and then counted to three. They ducked their heads under the water, eyes firmly shut. Gilbert could feel the bubbles that Anne blew out. After about 45 seconds, he decided to squeeze. 

Anne emerged from the water, pushing wet hair from her face, but Gilbert was no where to be seen.

Perhaps five seconds later he broke through the surface as well, a triumphant grin on his face.

“You’re a cheater!” She shouted, splashing a wave of water at him in punishment. They played and shouted until someone in the next room over banged on the wall, which caused them to erupt in laughter.

Here they were, Anne thought, feeling one feeling, indulging in a single emotion between them. He drifted to her then, pushing damp hair from her face, pulling her into his lap.

She kissed him along his jaw, tangled a hand in his wet curls. He pulled her still closer. For the first time Anne could feel him _there_ , again at those parts of her she had never been given a word for. She pulled away to look at him, his eyes as dark as they were the night before when he laid her down bare in the bed. They stayed like that, their bodies closer that they’d ever been, wondering who would make the definitive move.

Gilbert was struck with the memory of the day before, as he laid in his room waiting for it to become time to gather Anne from the station, he had decided, this time, he would be confident and bold. _He_ would take the lead. _He_ would undress her. _He_ would be what she wanted.

And so he put a hand on each of her hips and lifted her from the water, his lips on hers. He stepped out and lifted her over the edge.

She stood on tiptoes to reach him, hands clawing at the back of his neck to pull him ever closer. Again, she was lifted, higher this time. She wrapped her legs around his waist, hesitating only for a moment to consider if this was what he intended.

He held onto her tightly, a terror coming from deep inside him that he was perhaps still a boy and he would let her fall. It was with relief that he laid her on the bed: one less thing his inexperience could ruin. He reminded himself that he’d done this much before, that he’d watched her writhe beneath him, desperate for release that _he_ would give her. 

Emboldened by the notion that he had already succeeded in the past, he let his hands wander. He couldn’t remember how he’d convinced her to kiss him, open-mouthed, that last time in Halifax. He found himself lightly biting her lip, and the gasp she gave was enough to begin.

But, to Anne, so much was different this time. She was pinned firmly beneath him from the start, his hips flush against hers. Never, not in all her imaginings, had she pictured Gilbert like this. It was as though she had never known what the word passion truly meant until now. She felt him against her everywhere, everywhere, _everywhere._ She felt his hand find her center and her hands grabbed for the sheets. It was different and familiar and filled with so much _more_ than the last time that she wondered where this all could possibly take them. 

They continued on like that for a while, him kissing her wildly, a hand at her breast, the other at her entrance, her hips bucking up to rub against his every few moments, desperate for some sort of relief that she couldn’t quite imagine. 

He was the first to pull away, his eyes so dark. She longed for something familiar, in that moment, something that would anchor them to earth. 

“Gilbert,” she said, calling his attention to her. She was able grab hold of his hand and press it to her lips. She placed three quick kisses across the back of his hand as he watched closely. “I love you,” she told him. 

In a moment, he was a new man. Those dark eyes were replaced by ones much more familiar.

_So filled with romance,_ she thought with a smile.

He moved to kiss her neck. “I love you so much, Anne.” Instead of being pinned, she was cradled. Where there had been urgency, there was a gentle eagerness.

She was able to touch him now as she’d done once before. She smiled as he sighed against her lips. 

Their mouths still, Gilbert remembered something he’d overheard the other men boasting about once in the hallways of the boarding house.

He moved from her lips and went down her body, stopping to place a kiss on her inner thigh.

“What are you doing?” She whispered. This was more of the unfamiliar. She instinctively reached for his hand, always searching out something to ground her.

“There’s something else people do, other than touch,” he explained. Her eyes went wide. “They can use their mouths.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. “Is that… is that _normal_?”

He nodded. “But really it only matters if it’s something you enjoy, it doesn’t matter if it’s normal.”

“And you… you want to try it?”

He smiled at her, sensing her nerves. “I just want to make you feel good. If you’d like me to try, I will. If you want me to stop, all you need to do is say so.”

“There’s no risk?” She whispered.

“No risk,” he confirmed. She turned her face away, too shy to look at him as she gave her ascent. 

She nearly jumped at the sensation. Gilbert began to use his thumb to trace circles, then stars, then hearts on the back of her hand while he moved his tongue against her, trying to keep his own nerves at bay.

“Gilbert, Gilbert, Gilbert, Gilbert,” Anne repeated his name quickly, over and over again. Eventually a hand moved down to his head. He paused and looked up to her.

“I don’t want this,” she told him. “I want something else. I want something _more_. Is there more?” Her voice was hoarse, anxious, desperate.

His biggest fear and his greatest hope! How could he tell her that there _was_ more, that he knew exactly what she was craving, but that they shouldn’t? That there were risks… that he knew how to mostly mitigate the risks?

He decided to play doctor. “Anne, when was your last cycle?”

“Oh, no Gilbert. I don’t want to talk about that—“

“No, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. When did your last cycle end? When did you stop bleeding?”

She swallowed hard, looking to the ceiling. “The day I boarded the train…so two days ago, it ended.”

Eyes still glued to the ceiling, Anne was taken aback when his lips were frantically on her’s again.

“Gilbert!”

“That’s perfect, Anne! That couldn’t be any better!” She could feel his chest heaving against hers.

“What do you mean? I don’t understand.”

He rolled off of her, taking a seat beside her. She followed his motions. He took her hands into his lap.

“Anne, more is… it’s intercourse. It’s sex. It’s us… making love. Is that what you want? Just this once?”

Anne felt as though the air had been stolen from her lungs. “You can’t take something like that back,” she finally said.

He nodded in agreement. “That’s true.”

A million things flashed through Anne’s mind. Marilla and Esther and _how would she ever tell Diana_? 

“But… what if we—if _I_ — end up with a child?”

“If _we_ , it’s not if _you_ , it’s if _we._ ” 

“But how could we stop that from happening?”

“Anne, I know you don’t like to talk about it, but I’m going to tell you something I learned while doing some, um, research in the medical library. Women have times in their cycle where they are more likely to conceive and times where they are less likely to conceive. Right now, you’re at your least likely.” She made a face at this. “And do you remember what I taught you? That it takes a woman’s egg and a man’s… I called it a seed then, Anne, but we’re adults, it’s semen. It takes both to conceive. If I don’t…” He longed for a different reality, where someone had sat his fiancee down and explained to her these finer points so _he didn’t have to_. “If I don’t _finish_ while I’m inside you, then no semen can meet your egg. An egg that isn’t ready to be fertilized, anyway. Do you see?”

Anne nodded. “But _if_ something happens…”

He looked at her carefully, trying hard to communicate with whatever made a person who she was— their soul, their memories, whatever it was— he wanted to speak directly to that part of her.

“It could happen,” he told her quietly. “But I truly don’t think it will, not today. But I love you more than I love my own life. I’ll never let the world treat you unkindly. I’ll take care of you.”

Anne bit her lip. He spoke nothing of the dreams they would have to give up, of the whispers behind closed doors if anyone found out. 

“You really doubt that anything will happen? Truly?”

He nodded his head. “I so wish I could promise you, but I can’t.”

She knew she could get no more from him. He gave her all the information he had, she just had to make a decision…

But how was she supposed to lie beside him this whole week knowing what it meant to want _more_? Knowing what there was available to them?

“What will it be like on our wedding day?” She wondered aloud. “With this already out of the way?”

He laughed gently, pulling her into his lap again and kissing the top of her head. “It will be the greatest day of my life.”

“It won’t be much of a white wedding,” she commented.

He squeezed her shoulders. “You’re no sinner. I’ll take no fault in you wearing a white dress if you won’t.”

She folded her hands tightly in her lap and took a deep breath. “Do you want to pretend?”

He understood. “It’s hardly pretend for me.”

She nodded. “Me, too.” 

Carefully she unfolded her hands and reached up to lock them at the back of his neck. He leaned down slowly, his lips barely touching hers.

They both knew this was different. There would be nothing that would compare to this. They wouldn’t always know what was happening, but had to trust the other to tell them what they needed. 

Anne had thought her heart would race, thought she wouldn’t be able to catch her breath, but it wasn’t that way all. Again, and so slowly, Gilbert laid her down into the pillows, all of his kisses gentle. His hands were light like feathers, dusting over the peaks of her body until one found her opening again. He was slow this time, careful.

Gilbert didn’t know if he should tell her that he understood that this would hurt. He didn’t want to scare her, but loathed to be the only one with knowledge. He knew it couldn’t be fair… So, young as he was, he kissed her and touched her and prayed to God that if he could just control himself and go _slow_ that he wouldn’t have to watch her scrunch her nose in pain. He wondered if she may let a tear fall. He wondered how he could ever continue if she did.

So he touched her and added one more finger than he normally would have. He watched her close her eyes tightly, and he watched her closely for signs of pain. She moved her hips a bit and then leaned back up so her lips would be on his once again.

And then again, she was calling his name, her legs wrapping around the back of his knees to pull him closer. 

Suddenly, everything was happening _now_ and they both knew it. Their hands had moved to each other’s faces.

“I love you,” they whispered frantically. “You’re mine. I love you.”

And what more was there to say? Gilbert could think of only one thing.

“Are you ready, my beautiful girl?” Once more, Anne reached for his free hand.

“I am,” she told him with a small nod. He kissed her once more, letting his nose brush against hers, his other hand reaching between them, positioning himself at her entrance.

Anne could feel him there, warm and hard against her. She felt him slide. just an inch into her. She kept her eyes open for this. She liked this new warmth, especially coupled with his kisses, his hand again on her breast, the other hand firmly in her own. 

But there was, of course, more of him, and he pressed still further. Her eyes closed, hand squeezing. She hadn’t known there would be pain!

“Gilbert,” she said desperately. “It hurts! Is it meant to hurt? Is that what happens?”

She saw his face fall for a moment, then saw as he tried to recover. “It hurts for a moment, darling.”

“Just a moment?” She questioned. He nodded, unwilling to scare her, but he was unsure. No one had told him either.

“Should I stop?”

“No,” she said. “Not… not if it’s just a moment.”

“Here,” he said. “Let’s just stay as we are a moment. Can I kiss you again?”

She nodded and soon she was thanking the heavens for her Gilbert’s intuition. The kisses helped. His hand running up and down her body helped. She encouraged him to go on.

He moved against her body slowly, whispering sweet things into her ear.

“You’re an angel. I love you more than you can know.” She would nod and kiss him and promised she knew, promised she loved him too.

Then there was a moment where she herself was bold, and she whispered in his ear: “I’ve always wanted this. I’ve wanted _you._ ”

This made his movements quicker. He leaned down and kissed her again with that _passion_ , that unknown, undefinable urgency. 

There had been a moment when she was hurting when she thought to herself “at least Gilbert will feel good.” She had given up hope for herself that this could be something as lovely as his hands and lips on her. She wondered for a minute if this was a woman’s lot.

But not now! Not in this moment. She could feel everything building as it had before, felt her body cling to his with movements that were hardly her own.

“Tell me when you’re close, Anne,” he said. “Please, tell me.”

“It’s now!”

She hadn’t realized that he would move from her, coming out quickly from between her legs and grabbing tightly to her body. 

And then it was over. Anne looked around the room. It seemed remarkable that so little could be different. The only signs that something had happened were the ruffled pillows and the spot of red beneath her.

Before she could think too much, Gilbert was pulling her into his chest.

He remembered the last time, in Halifax, how after they’d both found release they laid apart on the bed. He couldn’t bear the idea of her being away from him, not after what they’d just shared. 

But he didn’t know what to say to her. Instead, they just looked at one another, each of their limbs tangled.

He couldn’t help but smile. He couldn’t help but love her. His girl, his love. Something more than a wife!

_My Anne,_ he thought.

He pulled her closer, his arms wrapped tight around her back. A minute had passed before he understood why she shook.

“Anne, why are you crying?”

Could he have ruined everything? 

“I just love you so much,” she sobbed into his chest. “I’m feeling so much!”

Relief washed over him. “I know,” he told her, rubbing her back. “I know.”

She pulled away to look at his face, her fingers reaching up to touch.

“You’re so beautiful,” she wept. “I love you.”

He swallowed hard, trying to rid himself of the tightness in his throat. “I love you, too,” was what he could manage.

“You’re so gentle and good. I love you, I love you,” she said, over and over. 

They knew that there would never be another day exactly like this, knew that if the words weren’t said in this moment, they wouldn’t ever be said with exactly the same meaning, that touches from now on would have a different tenderness. 

They stayed like that for the rest of the morning, holding on to that moment and that day and the promise of a future filled with friendship and kindness, endowed with tenderness and love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys,
> 
> I just wrote these characters to have WAY more nerve than I would. The last thing in the world I would want is to risk getting pregnant in the 19th century. I do not want any part of that!
> 
> I hoped this lived up to expectations! Let me know what you thought!


	21. Chapter 21

It was the sound of their stomachs that pulled them from the bed. Anne laughed as they growled together, sparking a promise from Gilbert to look after her properly and scavenge for food. Reluctantly they began to dress, sometimes playfully undoing the progress the other had made— the knot in a tie comes undone once more, a pin is pulled and a lock of hair comes loose again.

As Anne pulled her arms through her coat, Gilbert watched as a piece of paper fell gently to the floor. He moved to pick it up as Anne adjusted her collar.

“Grandad?” Was all he managed, unsure how to ask his orphaned fiancée about a grandparent he had never heard of before. 

“Oh, yes,” she said casually as she pulled on her leather gloves. “We met on the train. He collects grandchildren.” 

His mouth fell open. “He collects _what_?”

“Grandchildren,” she repeated.

He looked down to the paper in his hand. “Anne, this is his address. Did you give this fellow _your_ address?”

“I didn’t,” she replied.

He sighed in relief. “All right, that’s good.”

“I gave him yours in case he wanted to write to me while I’m in Toronto.”

“You gave him _my_ address? This old man who tells young women he meets on trains that he collects grandchildren?”

“Yes, but don’t make it sound like such a crime. I could tell right away he was a kindred spirit, and because you and I, Gilbert, are kindred spirits, any kindred spirit of mine is a kindred spirit of yours.”

“Is that how it works?” He took a seat on the edge of the bed, already wary from this discussion. 

“I should write to him,” she said thoughtfully. “I told him I would write to tell him I made it here safely.”

And so Gilbert kicked off his shoes once more, listening to the sound of Anne’s pen scratching and the roar of his own stomach for a half hour more.

Eventually, Anne cleared her throat and turned to face Gilbert. “What do you think of this?” She asked. “‘Dearest Grandad, I am writing to inform you that I have certainly made it to Toronto in one piece, though I am still displeased that the journey did not prove to be arduous. I had spent many miles of the journey half-anticipating the train to be attacked and looted by ruffians, though I suppose that is a truth of a bygone era. You will soon find through our correspondence that I am sometimes taken with fanciful ideas. Perhaps as a fellow orphan you are susceptible to similar imaginings? I would like to take this moment to confess to a fib which I told you from the outset: I am not, in fact, married to my Gilbert (though we are both rather fond of making believe we are)—‘“

“Hey!”

“Shhh,” she hissed. “I’m not done. ‘Tragically we are separated by many miles, and the villain who caused it all was money. I will not have you doubt for a moment, Granddad, that I am _at least_ as clever as Gilbert Blythe—‘“

“Hey!”

“Shhh!” She repeated. “‘Proof of which was in my acceptance to the University of Toronto!’— Gilbert, just let me finish! I’m hungry, too! —‘Despite my acceptance, I was not offered a scholarship, making my attendance this academic year a financial impossibility. But our love and adoration for one another will not be thwarted by such a petty enemy as money! I will try again for next year, and by then, Gilbert and I will have fulfilled our most difficult obligation to my dear father Matthew to wait one year before we’re married. As I think more on this requirement at this very moment, I wonder if our families hoped we would understand the difficult financial reality we would face as a young married couple and believed that would be enough to deter us even longer? But, as I’ve said, Gilbert and I are quite good at pretend and this will suit our lonely souls until the time comes for it to be the most wonderful reality. Surely you must come to our wedding! It will be the most delightful summer affair in Gilbert’s orchard, the apple trees all in bloom, a truly dreamy sight!’— I’m almost done, just one moment!—‘With all our love, Yours & etc., Anne Shirley-Cuthbert (Blythe) and Gilbert Blythe.”

Gilbert gave quick praise to her efforts, eager to be out the door. They found her a stamp buried deep in his carpet bag and handed the letter to the front desk to be put in the post. 

They meandered through the neighborhood, buying fruits and rolls from vendors and eating them as they walked along. Every so often Anne would blush, fancying that one of the souls who walked among them could read minds and _knew_ what Gilbert and Anne had done just hours before. She blushed still further when she thought of Marilla’s own particular gift for knowing Anne’s wrong doings, and blushed still further as the church bells rang out through the city and the faithful filed out of their pews. 

“We missed church,” Anne said quietly. 

Gilbert simply smirked. “I would say I worshipped this morning.”

Soon they were on the University’s campus. Gilbert walked her through empty court yards and lonely corridors, he showed her the large lecture hall where he spent Monday mornings listening to droning anatomy lessons. He brought her through the humanities building. Anne smiled widely as she read the plaques on the English department walls, happy to see the last graduating student to win a department award was called Sarah. 

She felt hopeful as she thought about her application essays and forms that were tucked into her trunk. Truthfully, she’d brought them so Gilbert could look them over and give his opinion on her writing (though she would certainly would need to time it so he would not fall victim to delusions of grandeur). She imagined herself taking long strides in the admissions office and proudly presenting them with her completed application.

She looked out onto the green and saw a couple of young women in straw boater hats and wonderful jackets that looked something like men’s, except with the most tremendous puff sleeves! And were those bow ties they wore?

“Do you think a bow tie would suit me, Gil?” 

But he was wrapped up in his own thoughts. “There’s Dr. Oak,” he said. “I wonder what she’s doing on campus on a Sunday?”

Anne turned to see a tall woman with hair the color of hay carefully locking an office door, a thick folder tucked haphazardly under one arm. Gilbert called out to her. Startled, her folder fell, dozens of blue pamphlets spreading across the ground.

With a sigh, Dr. Oak knelt to the ground and began collecting her pamphlets. Gilbert approached her, gesturing for Anne to follow.

“I’m sorry to have frightened you, Dr. Oak,” Gilbert told her as he blindly stacked her papers. “I was just surprised to see you here on a Sunday.”

She gave a tired smile. “That’s all right, Gilbert. I just had a few things to pick up. Do you think you could take my key to the chemistry department and check my mailbox? I’m expecting an overdue essay from one of my graduate students.”

Anne saw Gilbert’s youth in his eagerness to be helpful. He took the key and was off. As he retreated, Anne read over the title page of the scattered pamphlets for the first time. 

**PLAN YOUR CHILDREN FOR HEALTH AND HAPPINESS**

Anne looked up to meet the doctor’s gaze. The woman gave a conspiratorial smile, raising her index finger to her lip as though asking for Anne’s silence. She pushed a pamphlet into Anne’s lap with her other hand. 

As Gilbert approached once more, Anne shoved the brochure deep into the pocket of her coat.

His smile was infectious. “Dr. Oak, before you go, could I introduce my fiancée, Anne?”

Dr. Oak grinned. “Who other than Anne?” She extended a hand, as though they hadn’t already shared a moment. “I was very sorry to be the one to tell you about the lack of scholarship available. A dreadful business.”Anne nodded her head silently, still in a state of shock, her mind reeling with imaginings. What information did she hold in her pocket at this very moment? And like that, Dr. Oak announced: “Well I’d better be off. Very warm wishes for your holiday!”

———

“You’re very quiet,” Gilbert commented once they’d returned to their hotel room. And it was true: Anne had barely uttered a word since parting from Dr. Oak. She was unsure whether to show Gilbert the pamphlet, wondering if this was meant to be a communion among women. As she gave it more and more silent thought, she worked herself up further.

_This is for women!_ She thought. _Women, who bear men’s children and die for it. Women! How many women had died in all but body as they gave their souls to child after child?_

Yes, she would keep this to herself, at least for the moment. She could steal away to the bathroom, perhaps, and learn what a woman doctor could have to teach her fellows. 

That afternoon, Gilbert dozed. Anne tiptoed to her coat and then quietly closed the bathroom door behind her. She sat inside the tub as she opened the pamphlet for the first time. 

And there it was, filled with terrible medical jargon and illustrations of tiny contraptions which promised the impossible and that Anne would never know how to source. 

_But there are those that do_ , Anne quietly reminded herself. _And Dr. Emily Oak is one._

She held the pamphlet to her chest, thinking it precious. 

But then there was a moment of fear. Her hands reached for her stomach. Could it already be too late for her?

_What a horrendous prospect_ ….

Anne knew, logically, that she could wake Gilbert, tell him these new concerns, and he could comfort her with some sort of medical explanation. But she didn’t feel like doing that. She was much more in the mood to weep alone in a dry bathtub.

_Besides_ , she let herself think bitterly. _For all he says about any problem that comes from what we’ve done being OUR problem, it’s truly mine at the end of the day._

But did she really believe that? Perhaps just the smallest bit. 

When she, too, had grown tired, Anne had made a decision.

_I’m going to wear a boater hat and a bow tie and earn a plaque on the English department wall_ , she told herself. _What we did can never happen again._

While her fiancé snored, Anne pulled a pillow and a throw blanket from the bed and crawled back into the dry tub. A dramatic display, perhaps, but Anne felt sure that it would be a fine way to drive her point home to Gilbert with as few words as possible. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it feels strange to have gone, what, four days without a post? The weekend was spent helping my boyfriend organize his thoughts on Paradise Lost so that he could get a paper turned in. That really was something, seeing as I have never read Paradise Lost...  
> I digress.   
> I know this one's a bit short, but I wanted to get something out! It would turn out Dr. Oak is my hero.
> 
> I hope you liked it! Remember to share something nice that happened today :)


	22. Chapter 22

When Gilbert woke, he knew immediately he’d been asleep too long. He’d dozed in the late afternoon around the first signs of an autumn twilight, and here he was, opening his eyes to the first light of dawn. 

With a groan he rolled over, reaching across the bed for warmth. Instead he found cold, undisturbed sheets. He shot up, a terror coming over him. 

Anne’s side of the bed had never been slept in. She had left and hadn’t come back. He began to frantically dress, missing buttons on his shirt, his shoelaces barely tied. His mind was panicked as he tried to think where she might have gone to. He felt like he might throw up as he considered the idea that she may have simply gone to look around the lobby for an innocent half hour while her beau napped and vanished from there. Hadn’t Julia told him of her own landlady’s warnings against young women wandering the city alone? Of girls who are lured off by some faceless villain and never seen again? 

He was slinging his arms into his coat when he spotted his hat hanging from the bathroom door knob, a slipper wedged in the door keeping it ajar. Quickly, he pulled the door open, revealing what could only be described as a nest in the hotel’s bathtub, pillows and blankets and dressing gowns splayed out amongst red hair and a white flannel nightgown.

He nearly fell to his knees in relief. 

“Anne,” he said quietly, shaking her shoulder. “Wake up.” 

She lifted a lazy hand and waved him off. “Not getting up yet,” she told him.

He laughed a bit, still giddy from relief. “Well come to bed, you can sleep there.”

“I’m in my bed,” she mumbled, pulling the pillow over her head to block out the light. 

“What?” He questioned. In response she settled further into her makeshift nest. “Anne, don’t be silly. You can’t be comfortable sleeping in a bathtub. If you’re tired, I’ll carry you-“

Anne took the pillow away from her face and looked at him sternly. “No.”

“No?” 

“Sleeping in the same bed as you will cause nothing but trouble,” she told him.

“Nothing but trouble?” He repeated. “Anne, do you regret what we did yesterday?” She bit her lip. “Oh my God…” His head fell into his hands. 

“Gilbert, it’s not that I didn’t like it! I did! But we can never do it again, not until we’re old and it doesn’t matter if a baby comes of it.”

“You’re saying we won’t be intimate again until we’re old? How old is old?” He asked desperately.

“I don’t know, maybe forty?”

“Forty?!” He nearly shouted. 

“Well, when I’m forty,” she added. “I suppose you’ll be forty-two.”

Gilbert groaned and slid down the side of the tub. “So we’ll get married next summer and live the next two and a half decades celibate?”

Anne shrugged. “Worse things have happened.”

His jaw dropped. “When? Where?”

“This is no melodrama, Gilbert, this is our lives!”

He rose up onto his knees. “Anne,” he said pointedly. “You realize that plenty of doctors live normal lives and have children before they’re in their forties, right?”

Again, Anne shrugged. “How old do you suppose Dr. Oak is? Does she have children?”

“That’s different.”

“Because she’s a woman? She gets to be a doctor and a scholar because she’s become the master of her own body! And I will be master of mine!”

“You’re not master of your own body if all you do is avoid anything that feels good,” he remarked. “And, more than that, you actually want for us to live our lives, for years and years, as nothing more than brother and sister? Really, Anne?”

“I’ve told you: it isn’t about _want_ , it’s about being in control of our own lives.”

He ignored this. “I’ll tell you right now: that isn’t the life that I want.”

“What are you talking about? You’ve spent this past year _promising_ me that love is enough, and now it’s not for you?”

“For me, love and intimacy go hand in hand. Love is enough, but I can’t imagine a life devoid of _fully_ loving you. Don’t you see?”

Anne didn’t dare look at him now. She hadn’t considered this. She’d thought that she understood Gilbert after all these months, thought that he would take whatever she was willing to give him because some of her was better than none of her.She felt hot tears fill her eyes as she realized this wasn’t the case. She began to plan an exit strategy. 

She rose to her full height and stepped out of the tub, sweeping out of the bathroom, Gilbert following quickly behind. In a moment she had pulled paper and pencil from her trunk and had flung herself back into the tub, the door locked behind her. 

She smiled, pleased with how she had handled the situation.

There was a single knock on the door. “Anne?” Gilbert called out. “That’s the only bathroom. You can’t stay in there forever.”

“I know that!” She called back. 

Gilbert waited several moments, anticipating she’d say something more. When it became clear the discussion was over, Gilbert pulled out one of his own textbooks and sat on the bed.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” he muttered.

Perhaps an hour later he heard the click of the bathroom door. He turned his head to see Anne, looking humble, papers in hand. He waited for her to say something.

“I am sorry,” she told him. He wouldn’t hear what she was sorry for, though. “This is my scholarship application essay. Could you look at it quickly?” She handed him the papers, throwing her hand and forearm across the page to block his view of the majority of the application. “Just this sentence! The rest is private.” He gave her a dubious look but did as she commanded. “It reads awkwardly,” she explained. 

He nodded in agreement. “You’ve misused the hyphen.” 

“Oh.”

He handed the papers back to her. “It won’t be hard to fix now that you know,” he said simply, picking up his book once more and pretending to read. Really, he was watching her from the corner of his eye, hoping she would relent.

“We’re meant to choose a Shakespeare quote and speak to it,” she told him quietly. He set his book in his lap once more.

“And which one have you chosen?”

“‘Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.’” 

A silence hung between them at the heavy words. 

“Which play is that from?” He asked her casually.

“Macbeth.” She soon came to understand that he would not ask her more. “I’m going to write about my time in the asylum and in service when I was a child, and how words… well, they saw me through.” Gilbert nodded, not looking at her. He wondered if he would ever grow into the type of person who could so easily bear to hear Anne speak of her life before. “And then I’m also writing about how being brave enough to give voice to your sorrow can so often solve it. I’m going to write about the time Marilla sent me away when I’d only just arrived at Green Gables, and how Matthew followed after me, and how I was so angry and hurt that I wouldn’t give him the time of day, and how he was bold enough to call out ‘that’s my daughter’ and all was made better.” He hadn’t heard that story before, and so he merely nodded again. “And I’m writing about the pocket dictionary you brought me home from the Caribbean, and the letter I dared send to you while you were gone. I’m writing about the story club and how we girls wrote stories about princes and fairies and wonderful nonsense that gets relegated to nothingness because it comes from girls, and no other reason, and how Billy Andrews destroyed this sanctuary we’d built. And I’m writing about how words have always been all I’ve ever had, and to please let me have this scholarship.” 

Her voice broke at the end. Gilbert couldn’t help himself, his arms were around her, his hand finding its way to the back of her head as it always did, her face to his chest. 

“I don’t want to fight,” she told him. “I just want to have a nice life, where we get to decide what happens when.” 

“I don’t know how I can promise you that,” he told her. “But I’ll try, Anne. I’ll try to learn about what we can do.”

Anne pulled away then, darting back to the bathroom. 

“Don’t go back in there, we were making progress!” He called to her.

“I’m coming back,” she said, pamphlet in hand. “I, well, I found this.”

**PLAN YOUR CHILDREN FOR HEALTH AND HAPPINESS**

“Is this legal?” He asked as he flipped through the pages.

Anne shrugged. “Do you think you could learn more about this?”

Gilbert frowned. “I don’t know, Anne. They’re not exactly handing out recipes for spermicide in my classes.”

She squeezed his hand. “Please try! If you can get this information, maybe I’ll reconsider and we could be intimate again when we’re thirty.”

“Twenty-five?” He tried.

She gave him a smirk. “Maybe.”

——— 

The days went on quietly enough, with walks in the mornings and the evenings, and nights spent once more in a shared bed, the nest in the tub dismantled. 

Thursday at noon they sat on the bed, a checker board between them, their third game of the day in full swing. 

A knock on the door.

“You get it.”

“No, you.”

A quick round of rock, paper, scissors. A high-pitched triumphant squeal. A low groan, and Gilbert was at the door. 

A boy, younger than them both, stood with an envelope. Gilbert held out his hand for it. The boy shook his head. 

“Addressed to Mrs. Blythe,” he said. 

Anne jumped eagerly from the bed, introduced herself as such, and took the envelope from him.

As the door shut behind them, Anne tore the envelope open.

“A telegram,” she told Gilbert. “From Grandad.”

He watched her read it over quickly, a hand rising to her mouth in shock. The paper fell to the ground and so very nearly did he as she jumped onto him, all of her limbs wrapped around him.

“What’s going on? What did it say?” He asked breathlessly as he let her fall onto the bed. In response she grinned madly. 

Gilbert stooped to pick the telegram up.

ANNE

LOVELY TO HEAR FROM YOU. I WAS SORRY TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR SCHOLARSHIP FALLING THROUGH. MAY I OFFER UP MY OWN SERVICES? 

AN OLD MAN WILL NOT LIVE FOREVER, AND YOU CANNOT TAKE THE MONEY WITH YOU WHEN YOU ARE GONE. THERE IS NO REASON TO SEPARATE LOVE BY MILES.

CONSIDER ME YOUR BENEFACTOR. I CAN WIRE THE FUNDS TO THE UNIVERSITY IF YOU ASK FOR YOUR SPOT BACK.

I AWAIT YOUR INSTRUCTIONS.

GRANDAD

Gilbert looked back to Anne once more, the same wide grin spread across her face. “We can go find the administrative offices and get this all squared away, and send a telegram back toGrandad to let him know—“

“Anne.”

“I don’t think they’ll let me start _now_ , so far into the term, but perhaps in January—“

“Anne.”

“What a blessing we’ve been given, Gilbert! An end to this dreadful—“

“Anne!” He shouted this time. This quieted her. She looked at him, a bit like a doe. “This isn’t normal,” he said plainly. 

“I know it’s not strictly _normal_ , but it’s so very good! How lucky I am! How lucky we are!”

Gilbert shock his head. “Anne, people don’t just hand out this type of money to strangers. This is… bizarre. It makes me very uneasy.”

“I told you, this is just Grandad’s way—“

“Anne, don’t call him that. He’s not your grandfather. He’s a strange man you met on a train.”

“That’s what he told me to call him,” she said quietly. “This is a kindness he’s showing us, surely some sign of fondness is called for? I call Josephine Barry ‘Aunt Jo,’ after all.”

Gilbert rubbed at his face. “Anne, he doesn’t call this a scholarship. What if this is some sort of loan?”

“I don’t think it is—“

“But what if you’re _wrong_ , Anne?”

“Then I have to live with the consequences.” She tried to sound brave and nonchalant.

“No, Anne, it won’t be like that. Imagine, five years from now, this man writes back asking Mr. and Mrs. Blythe for all of his money, paid back in full, plus interest? We’d have to sell our farm and the orchard, Anne, all because we accepted this _deranged_ offer. You and I, _we_ will have to live with the consequences.”

“Gilbert, this is my chance to study at a university!”

“Be _reasonable_ ,” he begged her.

“Be _fair_!” She countered, those familiar angry tears come to the fore once more. She laughed, her voice shrill. “You have your scholarship! You have a path to everything you could ever want! _I_ want what _you_ have! Why should you have it and not me?”

“How can you resent me for this?” He hissed. “It’s not my fault you weren’t offered a scholarship last summer! But I can’t let you accept this money, not when I can so clearly see how it could ruin us.”

“Is this how it will be, then? Shall I defer to you for the next sixty years, oh husband, dear?”

“Don’t pretend I’m the villain! I am…older and I have seen more of the world than you have. I’m better equipped to make this decision for us!”

“Oh, yes, indeed!” She yelled.

“Say what you want to say, Anne! Be an adult about it!”

And it was there, at the tip of her tongue, exactly what she wanted to say.

_I hate you for this._

But she could see how she could regret it in an hour or a day or a year, so she bit her tongue hard and held her breath before pulling her coat from the chair and storming out of the room. She walked quickly to the stairs, going up instead of down.

She stood hidden on the seventh floor landing. After a minute or so, she could hear Gilbert at the stairs, calling for her. She remained quiet, not trusting herself to return to him. She thought herself capable of saying something dreadful. 

She listened to his footsteps as he climbed down, floor after floor, opening hallway doors at each one to call out for her. 

He was gone at the ground floor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys don't hate me for this chapter. If I can put in a word in my own defense: 16 and 18 year olds are VERY young and imperfectly selfish.
> 
> Honestly, I'm also super worried you'll hate Gilbert. In his defense... the 19th century kind of sucked? I know it was toxic of him to make the final call on accepting the money, but that is the expectation men were raised with for a long time. I really believe that there were many good, kind men in history who loved their wives, who a few times in their lives came across a decision that they couldn't agree on, and so they defaulted to their own opinion because that was what was expected. It doesn't exactly make it easy to swallow, but there it is.
> 
> And Anne! Don't hate her for almost saying she hates Gilbert. She has had a hard day!
> 
> My poor babies.


	23. Chapter 23

Gilbert wanted to scream. He wanted to kick at the dirt and he wanted to holler her name through the park, and in the grocer, and call for her all through campus. He was angry at her and he was frightened for her. 

_And he hated her for it_. 

It was nighttime now. He’d searched everywhere they’d ever been together. He had even thought to check the train station, thinking for a moment that perhaps she was dramatic enough to board a train and leave everything behind just to make a point to him… but no one had seen a redheaded woman. Not at the train station, not at the post office. He’d reached the end of the line. A bit numb, he began his walk back to the hotel.

He crossed the road without consciously deciding to. He knew it best to avoid the taverns and the men frequenting them. Did Anne know to do the same? He couldn’t pull his eyes away as a woman attempted to cross, but too late. They’d seen her. They called out for her, spilling out onto the street, inviting her to “come in and get warm.”

He could spend a minute or two wrapped up in concern for this anonymous woman. He could worry about how she would get home. He could allow his mind a moment’s rest from its real worry. 

What came next? Did he let the night pass hopelessly? He checked his pocket watch. It had been 11 hours and 14 minutes since he began looking. How long does one wait before filing a missing persons report? Should he send a telegram home? 

He wished for parents. 

**“** Are you Mrs. Blythe?” 

She had barely registered the front desk clerk’s presence when she’d stepped into the lobby, wrapped up in thoughts of what to say, what to do, what lines to draw and where to cave in as she crossed towards the doors that lead out onto the street.

She stopped at the sound of her fake name and turned to see a young man approach her. He must have been confident in his assumption, as he continued before she could respond. “Your husband told me to tell you that if you came back, to wait for him here in the lobby.”

“Well that’s an impossibility. I need to go find him.”

The clerk shook his head. “He told me: ‘If you see a young redheaded woman, that’s my wife. Tell her I will come back before midnight. Tell her to _wait here_.’”

“Thank you for delivering his message, but he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I need to go find him. This can’t wait until midnight when he comes back.”

She stood in front of the glass doors and was struck by the thought that everyone she saw out on the street was doing one of two things: what was expected of them, or what was not expected of them. 

There was a child selling an evening newspaper, and two others looking quite naughty as they swung around a light post. In a moment, a woman with a painted face passed and another grimaced at the sight of her. A man stumbled, drunk, another went by with a briefcase in hand.

And none of it mattered to Anne. She didn't find herself wanting to be the boy selling the paper, or the businessman. She didn’t want to be the drunk or the naughty child, either. 

She’d convinced herself she might as well take a seat. Each nerve in her body was on end, ready to jump, but still she remained seated. She stared at the door, waiting. An hour passed and then another. She tapped her foot. She balled her fists. He still didn’t come. It was 11:30 now and the crowd in the lobby had thinned to non-existence. She let herself imagine a situation where she could prove herself to him. She yearned to have some proof that she was a wise, mature person who could see through a ruse as well as he could. 

_“Excuse me, young lady,” a soft voice would call from behind her. Anne would turn to see a man, perhaps in his thirties, though she never knew with men. “Your husband has sent me to fetch you.”_

_Relieved, at least in that moment, Anne would stand up, a grin on her face. “Has he? Where is he? Is he still very angry?”_

_“Oh, no, ma’am. He’s not angry at all. He can’t wait to see you. Come with me, I’ll bring you to him.”_

_Anne would gather her coat. “Where is he now?”_

_“Not far, he’s just getting something sorted. He’s a jolly fellow. We struck up a conversation. He asked me to come check to see if you were here waiting for him and for me to take you back to him.”_

_They would cross the length of the lobby and stand at the side doors. The man would smile as he held the door open for her. He would reach out his other hand and wrap it around her elbow, his grasp uncomfortably tight._

_The hairs on Anne’s neck would raise. “I’m sorry, but what’s your name?”_

_“I’m Mr. Smith,” he would tell her, his smile falling for just a moment. “We should get going, though. Come along.”_

_Anne would give a shake of her head. “I’m sorry, I’m just very confused. He’s cross with me for trusting a stranger. Why would he send a stranger to fetch me?”_

_“Perhaps it’s a little out of character, but he and I got on famously. We proved to be the quickest of friends.” His hand would tighten still further._

_“What’s his name?”_

_“I’m sorry?”_

_“My husband. Your new friend. What’s his name?”_

_“Anne?”_

_She would turn her head at her name. Gilbert would be quickly approaching. She’d hear the man curse and he’d drop his hand from her arm. He would flee through the door. She would remain locked in place, rather shocked._

_To her surprise, Gilbert would take her hands in his. “Anne, who was that man?”_

_“I think he was a villain,” she would tell him, still rather dazed._

_“Why was he holding your arm like that? Is it all right?” She would hold it up for his inspection. “Those will be bruises,” he would murmur as he rolled her sleeve back down._

_“Gilbert, I did as you asked,” she would tell him quickly. “I never left the hotel! I’ve been here waiting for you the whole time!” He would remain quiet, waiting for her to finish what she had to say. “That man… he told me you’d sent him to fetch me, but I realized you would never send a stranger after me. I was very suspicious of him.”_

_And Gilbert would tell her that he was proud of her and her foresight, that she was no child to be trifled with, and he would trust her judgement and in the morning they would make arrangements to collect the money that they had been offered. He would tell her she is his partner and his equal and that he should have trusted her. All would be forgiven._

But perhaps not. How her Gilbert had surprised her this week! He stood his ground in ways she had never expected of him, had asked things of her that she would have never fathomed he would ask. Did she not heel like a dog at his command? Did she not wait like a spaniel, eager for her owner to come home?

The thought made her dreadfully sad, so she put it aside and attempted to convince herself she could set their mess straight.

Perhaps she could apologize for her temper? Maybe she should tell a fib, tell him that her imagined scenario had actually happened in his absence? Surely knowing you would make the right choice was as good as actually making it, she thought. 

Gilbert thought there would be relief when he finally found Anne, but when he came through those doors at 11:40 and saw her perched on a sofa in the hotel lobby, what he felt was annoyance.

He had never expected her to do as she was told and he had prepared himself to find her looking lost in a park somewhere, frightened at what she’d gotten herself into, grateful that he’d come to her rescue. In truth, he could forgive her if she’d let him be her savior. 

Instead she rushed over to him, eagerly telling him she’d never stepped foot out of the hotel, that she’d been in the lobby waiting for him nearly from the time he left. 

In quiet they stepped onto the elevator. In silence he unlocked their door.

They undressed with their backs to one another, unsure of where they stood. The electric lights were out, a foot of space between them in the bed, and still there was more silence.

“Gilbert, are you still cross with me?” She didn’t dare look at him.

“I don’t know.”

“I did as you said,” she reminded him. She heard him sigh. “What more could I have done? Haven’t I a right to my opinions? To my emotions, childish as they may be?”

He turned to her then. “Don’t say that about yourself,” he told her quietly.

“But it’s true. You said it. You told me to be an adult.”

“I shouldn’t have,” he said, perhaps a bit too sharply. “I shouldn’t have been so cruel. I’m sorry, Anne. It’s not fair that I’m studying here and you’re not. You should be upset. It’s unjust.”

“But I shouldn’t behave as I do. I have such a temper, and I’m so very fickle. I change my mind nearly every hour about any number of things.”

He took a deep breath and willed himself on. “Have you changed your mind about me?”

“What?” 

“Now that you’ve had this glimpse into what married life will be like, do you still want it?”

She hadn’t put the question to herself before this moment. “This was supposed to be blissful,” was all she managed.

He ran a hand through her hair. “It was. I was so excited to get you to myself,” he told her with a sad smile. “My beautiful girl. My wife, some fantastic day.”

“I’m still here,” she told him.

“That’s true. It just feels different with all the arguing.”

“What can we do to be better?” She asked him suddenly. “How can we have more wonderful moments?”

Gilbert felt guilty to voice his thoughts, but spoke anyway. “I don’t like that I haven’t touched you since that morning.”

For a moment she was transported back to Sunday morning. She hadn’t let her mind linger on what they’d done, how it felt to have him inside her, what it meant for them. In truth, she was quite frightened of it, afraid that she could choose to go down that path again and again and forsake herself and what she wanted from life. Afraid that the more they did it, the better chance someone could simply look at her and tell. She also feared that the more she gave herself over to him, the quicker he may be to forget that her dreams lingered all around them, desperate to be fulfilled in the same way and to the same degree as his own precious aspirations. 

“I wanted my dreams to be precious to you,” she whispered. “I want you to treasure them as I treasure yours. As _you_ treasure yours.”

“You think I don’t.” It wasn’t a question.

“I worry that a woman’s hopes are easily forgotten.”

“Happiness is made up of more than dreams and hopes for what could be,” he reminded her, lacing his fingers through hers. “You forget its made up also of moments like these, spent with the person you love.”

She forced herself to listen. All she wanted to do was respond, but she could see his earnestness. 

“Perhaps it’s true I’ve prioritized one over the other,” she admitted at last. “But don’t you see that I’m scared? And jealous? What happens if I don’t get the school’s scholarship for next year? Is that it?”

“I don’t know, Anne,” he confessed. “You’ll still be a teacher. And people can learn anywhere. I’ll bring you any books you like from the library. You’ll know just as much as any university student.”

She frowned. “I don’t like that answer. Tell me how we’ll make it _fair._ ”

He was silent at this. If she didn’t earn a scholarship, it would never be fair. 

“I suppose we’ll cross that bridge in spring when scholarship decisions are announced,” she told him, rolling over to lie on her back to look at the ceiling. “Maybe there will be something to say then.”

“So you’ll give up this scheme of taking that man’s money?” He asked her desperately.

She turned her head to look over at him. _Why would he ask something like that now? Couldn’t he see how it pains her?_

In response she rolled over once more, facing away from him. She felt him squeeze her shoulder.

“Anne, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she heard herself say. Perhaps it would be truer in the morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is an angst-ridden chapter, I know. If you can bear with me, I promise I am a proper captain of this ship!


	24. Chapter 24

Gilbert woke early, dressing in darkness and scribbling a note for Anne. 

He took the forsaken telegram with him.

Part of him couldn’t believe he was doing this, the other couldn’t understand what would hold him back: he could have his Anne back with a single question. He tried his best to cheer himself up.

_Perhaps Anne is right,_ he told himself. _And with this, she could come to Toronto. She could be happy. We could be happy._

But something in him really, truly doubted it. So he walked to the telegraph station alone, afraid that whatever came of this would disappoint her.

He stepped up to the counter with a yawn. “I’m sorry,” he told the clerk. “This will be a complicated one.”

———

Anne let herself sleep in, knowing tomorrow she would be beginning her long journey home. She’d heard Gilbert leave very early, but pretended she hadn’t. She wasn’t sure where she would find the energy to have their next row or their next heart to heart. 

She wondered what it would be like to return to Queens. Not a single bow tie on a lady! She wondered if perhaps Roy would be able to look at her and _tell_ what she’d done with Gilbert. She wondered how he would react. Perhaps he’d give up on her entirely. Or perhaps she had it wrong and what he’d be able to see were the emotional paces she’d been put through during her trip. Roy would take heart in that.

Did she feel older than she had when she’d arrived in Toronto? Perhaps. Was it only a week ago when she had thought that she and Gilbert were so obviously made of the same stuff? Were they no longer two sides of the same coin, as Gilbert had written to her at the start of term?

It felt as though there was something insurmountably different about them, though she could hardly put words to it. He was so rational, so level-headed, and, still, so desperately in love above anything else. Did he love her more than he wanted to be a doctor? This Anne was sometimes unsure of, but was consistently uncertain what she hoped the answer to be. 

Did he see her soul, as she had so fervently believed that he had? Or was it a mirage? Surely he knew how she ached and longed for what he already had. Did he understand that she could love him wholeheartedly, without reserve, if he could just include her dreams in his? If he planned as though there were no alternative but for her to succeed? 

Slowly she rose from the bed. She went to pull her book from the desk, but instead took notice of a folded piece of paper, her name written carefully onto it.

_Anne,_

_I’ve gone out this morning. I’m hoping to be back before lunch. Shall I treat you to something nice to eat? I hope you’ll let me._

_Your liege man of life and limb,_

_Gil_

Gilbert had spent hours waiting for a response to the point the clerks had grown tired of him. Their longest transcription of the day from a man who just wouldn’t leave! He was sure he’d memorized the ceiling tiles, that he would dream of the sound of the bell ringing to announce a new patron.

It rang once more, a tall blonde woman stepping into the room. 

“Why, hello, Gilbert!” She said warmly. “Have you already sent your Anne on her way?” 

“Dr. Oak, good morning,” he said eagerly, stepping up to shake her hand. He noticed her shift those ever present folders, a corner of a paper in a familiar robins egg blue peaking out from the folds.Suddenly so much made sense. Gilbert locked eyes with his professor, not saying anything.

“Would you like to step outside for a spot of fresh air?” She asked pleasantly, so effortlessly masking the actual command. He nodded and followed her lead. When they were safely away from prying ears, she said with a cool smile: “I see you’re familiar my latest publication. And what are your thoughts, Dr. Blythe? Physician to physician?” 

He looked back to the folders. “Where did you learn about this sort of medicine, Dr. Oak?”

“It’s very simple: someone taught me years ago. And if you’re quite agreeable to it, I’ll teach you in your turn.”

“Dr. Oak,” he whispered urgently. “If anyone knew that you are distributing this… wouldn’t you be ruined? That would be the end of your career.”

She nodded at this. “But this knowledge is the reason I _have_ a career. When I earned my medical degree, I was Dr. Emily Rogers and Mr. Oak was merely a suitor of mine. If I hadn’t known how to protect myself, I’d have a litter of children by now. Why, the oldest would be your age. But I don’t, because I was able to decide that what I am and what I will be is a doctor. Someone helped me, and I can help someone. If they burn me as a witch, so be it. And I need someone who can take over for me if I am set ablaze.” 

Gilbert was speechless. “Why me?” He finally managed. 

“Why not you? Haven’t you seen your share of human suffering? Don’t you know that there are wives as clever as your Anne? They’d make mighty fine attorneys and doctors and poets and scholars if given a lick of a chance.”

At Anne’s name his breath caught. “Anne is so afraid,” he admitted. “She doesn’t want to miss her chance. Can you help her?”

She put a hand on his shoulder. “I never give out my information through the husband, future doctor though he may be. If Anne is interested, tell her that I’ll be in my office on campus all afternoon.” He nodded. “And Gilbert? If you’re interested in my proposition to you, Sunday night dinner is at 7. 19 Winthrop St. We’ll be the house with the lazy orange cat on the stoop: you can’t miss us.” 

They heard that bell ring once more. “Sir?” They both turned to see the clerk, a telegram clutched in one hand. “Figured you’d want this after all your waiting.” He took it from him, turning back to Dr. Oak. She gave him a terse nod and then a mischievous smile before turning on her heel. 

It was everything he could do to keep himself from reading the telegram… but he’d promised himself that it would be Anne who would be privy to knowledge of her own future before anyone else. He walked the three blocks back to the hotel as quickly as he could.

Anne looked up from her book to see the door knob turning. Gilbert stood there, disheveled, rather out of breath, eyes earnest.

“Anne, I sent a telegraph to Mr. Lawrence asking for details. I’m sorry if this upsets you.”

“What?”

“This is his response.” He sat quickly at the side of the bed, pressing the telegram into her hands. She stared at it without seeing for several moments. She pressed it back into his palm.

“No, you. You read it.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“No, I’m not sure. But I can’t do it right now. I can barely think.”

He peeled it open.

“ _My dear man,_ ” he read aloud. “ _I was surprised to hear from you this morning, and, in truth, for a moment I was rather offended by your line of questioning. I took a half hour to stew and can see now that I can hardly fault a man for trying to protect himself and his family. What I offer to you is indeed a gift. I do not expect to ever be paid back, I merely hope to be invited to the wedding. Per your request, I have reached out to my lawyer who will have something drawn up in writing with my signature on it. I can give it to Anne in Montreal tomorrow as I know she will be journeying home. I suggest you dally no more and speak with the University to secure Anne’s spot. Please send me word before the day is out. My best to your Anne, and my best to you, young man. Yours most sincerely, Granddad.”_

_“_ Gilbert, you’re crying.”

“Am I?” He said, raising his sleeve to wipe at his eyes. “I’m just so happy for you, Anne.”

“You are?” She asked, crawling across the bed to be closer to him. 

He nodded. “Can you forgive me for doubting you? I thought it was too good to be true. I should have known you have a knack for seeing through people. I’m sorry.”

“If you’re really happy for me, I forgive you,” she told him leaning her head against his shoulder. 

He kissed the top of her head and held her for a few minutes. They both let themselves cry in relief. Eventually he pulled away.

“We have to go to campus,” he reminded her. “We have to go get your spot back.” Anne nodded, wiping at her face. “I have one more thing to tell you. I know that pamphlet came from Dr. Oak.”

“I don’t deny it,” she said a bit defensively, unsure what Dr. Oak would want her to say.

“No! I don’t mean it negatively. I just… I know that Dr. Oak _knows_ even more than what was in that pamphlet. I know because she asked to teach me so that I could…. I don’t know, put Rachel Lynde in an early grave through scandal alone? She wants to teach me about this aspect of medicine to keep this chain of knowledge going. She’s… not like any doctor I’ve ever met. She wants to make this information available to people so they can live their lives the way they want to. I asked her if she could help us, help you, live the life you want to.” Anne’s eyes went wide at this. “I can speak with the admissions office and the registrar— whoever you talk to about getting someone enrolled— and I’ll make your case until I’m hoarse. You go talk to Dr. Oak, all right? We won’t live in fear anymore.”

Anne laughed, her relief palpable. “Is this real life?”

“I think so!” He replied, laughing as well as he pulled her up from the bed and helped her into her coat. She turned to face him, but he was already wrapping a scarf around her neck.

“This one’s yours,” she reminded him. 

“You don’t have yours, and it’s cold. You don’t need to get sick for your trip home.”

She paused at this, struck as she once was by this man and his goodness. “You really do love me, don’t you?”

Again he laughed, placing another kiss on her head, so immensely grateful to have the bliss he’d spent so long longing for back in their lives. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, would you look at that? I wrestled the rope from darkness and brought us back to a story that halfway resembles what I'd originally intended it to haha. 
> 
> I hope to get a longer chapter out next time, and I hope you enjoy!


	25. Chapter 25

Anne was careful to plan it: three knocks exactly and a bright smile when she was told to come in to feed into the myth that this was _normal._

Dr. Oak rose from her desk with a smile to match Anne’s. Anne wondered if someday she would ever sit behind a large wooden desk in her own office, possessed of confidence and grace and knowledge, a bow tie around her neck. 

“How do you do, Anne?” She asked, extending her hand across the desk for Anne to shake. “Tell me: would you like to chat or get straight to it?” Anne’s brows raised in confusion. “It’s always whatever the patient prefers. A bit of butterflies is normal, but I won’t hold with any embarrassment or shame.”

“Could we… could we chat for a moment?” Anne asked quietly. 

Dr. Oak’s smile turned into a smirk. “Your Mr. Blythe only has a B average in my class,” she told her. “Surely that’s not up to his old snuff?”

Anne snorted a laugh. “I knew it. Who does he have to compete against if not me? He’s lost his edge.”

“Have you ever considered medicine? Perhaps you could join the cohort and knock some sense into my entire lot. Midterms were pitiful,” she said with a playful sneer.

“There have been brief moments where I thought perhaps nursing could be my vocation, but it can bring back memories best left in the past. But I’m quite decided now on education. I’m going to teach.”

“Yes, teaching is wonderful. I’m grateful for the role of teacher I play here. What makes you want to teach?”

“Oh, I so deeply want to let people know that there’s knowledge out there, and I want to show them where to find it. I think of what people can do if only given a shot. I wonder when there will be laws that ensure all children are put in school? I wasn’t in school for many years during my childhood. If I had been, perhaps I would have beaten Gilbert after all.”

“Perhaps you’d be interested in the theory of education? There are certainly lady principals, there are women on boards of governors, there are female superintendents speckled across Canada. I’ve heard of a couple. Perhaps that would be something to angle for? Why, it even brings me around to our matter of business.”

“It does?” Anne asked, confused.

“You’ve come for my witch’s secrets. The only thing I ask in exchange is that there be _no_ small notions from here on out. Anything is possible for you.” Anne wondered if Dr. Oak actually believed that. “Are we in agreement?” Anne nodded dumbly. Again, Dr. Oak smiled widely. “All right, my young friend. Shall we talk about our options?” And with this she began removing items from her desk, drawers coming open only at the turn of her key. First she revealed a small tin, setting it on the desk in front of Anne. “Go on,” Dr. Oak encouraged. “Open it.”

Anne did as she was told, lifting the lid with a small “pop” to reveal some sort of sponge wrapped in netting. Anne didn’t know what would be the question to ask. 

“The benefit of the sponge,” Dr. Oak explained. “Is it doesn’t require any sort of operation. You simply wet it and insert it before intercourse. Many sleep with it in. It’s infused with chemicals, spermicides, so best to leave it in for a bit afterwards. Of course, you have to always _remember_ to use it. This makes it a bit imperfect for some. But I could also offer up this.” She pulled a small metal wishbone from another drawer. “This one’s different: I would need to do it for you in a bit of a procedure. But then you need never think of it.”

“It stays inside of me?” Anne questioned dubiously. 

“It does. Essentially each month when your ovaries release an egg, it may become fertilized if you’re engaging in intimate contact, but it won’t be able to take hold in your womb. No child will come of it.” Anne put a hand to the back of her neck, feeling rather nervous and embarrassed. “Oh, I said none of that! Why don’t you tell me what troubles you about this, because it needn’t.”

“I don’t think Gilbert would like it if I said. It pertains to him, too…”

“You think that I believe my students are so very innocent?” She teased. “In truth, I assume every last one of them has run off with a string of lovers, and I treat them all the same. There’s no harm if what you say confirms my theories, even just a bit.” Anne’s tongue felt heavy in her mouth. She thought she may be unable to say the words. Dr. Oak looked at her sympathetically. “You know, the day I met your Mr. Blythe I asked after his wife, as I’d seen his ring,” she said gently. “He smiled and pulled his eyebrows up that way he does and he told me: ‘not my wife yet, we’ve promised to wait a year, but Anne is as good as.’ How very charming he is! What a lovely life you have together. Is it quite a challenge to be separated so?” Anne nodded. “And to be together for the first time, here in this city, this place where you’re going to build your futures together… what a lovely way to begin a chapter of your lives, to perhaps share a deeply personal first with one another. How happy I would be to hear of two young people who loved each other so entirely. I just hope that those young people are careful to make sure that it would be the very start, that nothing need end…”

Anne took a deep breath. “I suppose there would be ways for those young people to be careful, even without all of these contraptions.”

“Yes,” Dr. Oak agreed. “But not as careful as they should be. It would be normal for there to be some worries about repercussions.” Anne looked Dr. Oak in the eye, frightened of what came next. “But not _too_ worried, as the stress could delay that red and lovely sign that all is well.”

“I wonder what could be done if all was… not well.”

Dr. Oak reached for her pen and began to quickly write. She handed the paper to Anne, a serious look on her face. “This doctor is a friend of mine in Halifax. You should go as soon as you suspect something is amiss if you’re not eager to experience motherhood at the moment.”

“But that’s—“

“That’s a difficult decision, but your choice. Here is the information you’ll need if it comes to it.”

“I’m frightened,” she said quietly.

Dr. Oak patted her hand. “It probably won’t come to it, from the sounds of it.” Again, Anne nodded, trying to take heart in that. “As for the rest of it… what are your thoughts?”

“I… I have to leave tomorrow. I can’t have a procedure, surely?” 

“It would be unwise,” Dr. Oak agreed. “Perhaps the next time you’re in Toronto?”

Anne smiled widely at this. “It may be very soon! Perhaps I’ll be enrolled for January. We’ve come into some money and it would seem my tuition would be covered. Gilbert is making my case now.”

“How wonderful, Anne!” Dr. Oak told her, standing from her desk once more. “I would advise you come for the procedure before any wedding. But this,” Dr. Oak placed the tin into Anne’s hand. “May as well stay in your possession until then.”

With a deep blush, Anne thanked the woman and left her office. 

She walked to the administrative offices, unsure exactly where she should look for Gilbert. 

But there he was, head peaking out from a crack in the door as if deciding which way to go. His smile was extraordinary when he spotted Anne.

“Toronto’s newest scholar!” 

“The boxer who fought my corner!” Anne called out warmly. She fixed her face into a smile though the weight of the tin in her pocket tugged her down to earth and put knots in her stomach as she realized he would ask about her meeting with the doctor. She wondered briefly if she was absurd in her embarrassment, silly in her nervousness at letting Gilbert know that there were things that could be done that could open all doors for them and _keep_ them open.

She had very carefully set aside time over the past few hours to consider their last intimate encounter. She had decided that it would be something to blush over during the day, as well as something they could breath life into in their loneliness at night, so many miles apart, but ultimately it would be a singular memory. She figured that it would be the only such experience they would have until their wedding night, at which point enough time would have passed that the memory would have dulled a bit and the butterflies and the feeling of newness would return in full force. She found herself clinging to this idea.

But she wondered what Gilbert would think of this. She had always heard whispers and warnings of the lasciviousness of men, of the things they would ask of women if only given a moment alone in the dark and how they would ask over and over. Older women had spoken in colloquialisms that Anne only vaguely understood at the time: some would say “if you give them an inch, they’ll take a mile,” others preferred the somehow more hateful “an inch is as good as a mile,” and still others likened their own girls to cattle. 

She remembered her Gilbert and his coal-black eyes that bore down on her as he lay above her. But here he was, the very same person, with eyes like daylight which he couldn’t keep off of her for any length of time, happiness and kindness and a purity of soul emanating out of him in a way Anne doubted he could control.

What strange creatures men are! And they say that women are the fickle, changeable ones. 

Or perhaps it was simply her man? She truly had little to go off of, but frowned at the thought that her friends and neighbors may sometimes have that same dark look about them. She decided that needed no further consideration.

Soon enough they’d made it back to their hotel room. The place where, in theory, all things could be said, all things could be done. She braced herself for his line of questioning but the barrage never came. Instead he fell back on the bed, patting the spot to suggest Anne do the same.

There were these moments that came up every so often where Gilbert could feel the swell of his heart, or his soul, or whatever it was that fed a person’s will to do better, to hope for more, to look up and thank God for this moment and for existence in it. It was the feeling that had come to him at fifteen as he saw a red wisp of a girl in the forest, at Christmas when he was sixteen and they blew out the candles on her tree and it became so clear that home was a person for him, at seventeen at his brother’s wedding as it dawned on him that what he wanted was one person and that he didn’t need to try others on for size, at eighteen as he stacked pillows on a hotel room chair to feign propriety, heart leaping at the sound of her voice in song coming from the next room. All these moments told his young mind that he needn’t doubt. That there was nothing to fear, nothing to work out. The feeling fed him and consumed him all at once. He loved her. He loved her. He loved her. And so now, two weeks passed his nineteenth birthday, he was due for another such moment.

And here it was. 

His Anne, who could rise up from hell with compassion and trust still in her heart, so clearly the better between them. He let himself imagine again that wonderful scene, the two sat on a sofa side by side, her skirts brushing his legs, books and notes scattered around them in this place that was theirs alone. He thought of the dried lavender that Anne would hang in each room and the pots of honey from home, and the stew on the stove that they did their best with, and their bed in the next room over which waited for them to grow weary enough from their studies to crawl into it, some nights too tired for anything but kisses to the tip of the other’s nose, perhaps an old fat cat curled up at their feet, and other nights filled with the caresses he spent so many hours of his life longing for.

He’d known it for years: she was home for him. He would always feel this way.

His hand reached for her’s. She moved to curl her fingers around his own, but instead he was pulling at her ring. Her smile faltered and she sat up, confused, but he was already dropping to the floor, her ring in his hand.

She watched him arrange his limbs so he knelt on one knee before her. 

“Anne,” he said, but couldn’t continue. In his mind just a moment before he thought he could pour his soul out to her, but here he was, his tongue heavy in his mouth, his thoughts cloudy, his only real thought that he loved her more than he could say.

“I’m no poet,” he finally managed. “But I hope that the words I’ve managed to say to you over all these months, and the years before that, have made you feel loved and cherished, because that’s what you are. I spend so much time trying to figure out how to be a good enough man to deserve you, though I doubt I ever could, and then so many more hours working frantically to become that person. After all that time has been spent, the rest is used up missing you and wishing you were with me so I’d always know you’re well, so I can share my troubles with you, to share my joy with you. I’ll say it again, I’m really _no_ poet, Anne, but I love you. That fact is the beginning and the end of me, and it will always be that way. I don’t need or want seven months to mull it over. I want to have a life with you. I want us to live together and do whatever we please and to spend our time together as partners and friends and lovers. I want to tell you I love you to your face every day! I want for you to come back to Toronto in January as my wife, but what I _really_ want, Anne, is for you to leave Toronto as my wife. Please, Anne, marry me?”

All Anne knew was she was breathing, though barely, her breath caught in her chest. “No poet,” she echoed quietly. “But an artist, maybe, because you’ve painted such a compelling picture…”

“Compelling enough to tempt you?” He asked with a shy smile, holding the ring up a but higher. 

“And such a lovely ring,” she said with a laugh. “So we’re clear, you’re asking me to elope with you? Essentially right now?”

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “As soon as we can get a marriage certificate.”

“Will we be able to?” She asked thoughtfully. “I’m still only sixteen, Gilbert. I’d imagine there are age restrictions.”

He bit his lip, unsure how to phrase the answer gently. “I was able to make the choice at fifteen to take work on a ship because I had no father or mother who normally would be needed to sign off.”

“Oh,” was all she said. Anne thought of her own mother and father, very much alive and at home at Green Gables. She thought of how they opened their family Bible and had her sign her name, but that was the only signature involved in her adoption. Not a single legal document ever came of it. “So I’m my own woman?”

Gilbert nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, your own woman.”

Again, Anne took time to consider this as Gilbert knelt anxiously on the floor. 

With this new understanding of her own status in mind, Anne tried to pose only a single question to herself.

Did she want to marry Gilbert this week?

She looked him over carefully, this young man who was all earnestness. She’d never known anyone else quite like him. She thought of her corset and her hair pins and her life away from home and realized childhood had already been kissed goodbye. Her’s had been short but fulfilling in Avonlea, why shouldn’t she carve out an adulthood that was equally as thrilling? What good did it do to pine for your beloved when you could just as easily have them? And why leave Gilbert alone in that dreadful boarding house to long for her in the grey of his room when she could fill his world with color?

The answer seemed to find itself.

With a smile she reached a hand out to him to pull him up from his knees and back onto the bed. She let him keep hold of her left hand and he slid the ring that was already her’s back into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone,
> 
> It's been a while, I'm sorry if anyone's been waiting on this update. For a while things at work had me in a mood, and then I spent a few days trying to decide where I wanted this story to go. But the show must go on! 
> 
> I'm including in this note some links to a few interesting sources about historical birth control methods. Please feel free to take a look if interested! 
> 
> https://www.nytimes.com/2001/07/22/books/the-secret-history-of-birth-control.html
> 
> https://mashable.com/2015/06/07/early-birth-control/
> 
> http://susannaives.com/wordpress/2012/07/is-your-victorian-gentleman-sponge-worthy-contraception-in-the-years-1826-1891-part-ii/
> 
> https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexperience/features/pill-timeline/
> 
> https://www.civilwarmed.org/birth-control/


	26. Chapter 26

Anne and Gilbert would have begun wedding preparations right away if not for their long-standing obligation to get drunk with Gilbert’s friends. And so after they had sent a quick telegram to Montreal to let Grandad know that Anne would not be meeting him at the train station tomorrow (but perhaps something like Tuesday? They’d certainly let him know.) the young couple made their way to that same tavern that the medical students frequented each Friday night.

Gilbert gave up on propriety, wrapping his arm tightly around Anne’s waist as they approached, carefully pushing from his mind any consideration over whether the gesture were meant as a show of affection or one of protectiveness. He realized that when Anne moved to Toronto there would be times where she would be without him, and the thought made him a bit uneasy. But for good reason! How many times did he have to remind her not to step into the streets because the carriages will run her over here? Then there was the time she’d been lured in by the unnerving fire and brimstone street preacher while Gilbert settled with the grocer. And the time she went to pet a stray dog and nearly lost a few fingers. The list went on, and Gilbert wasn’t eager to see how she managed a Toronto tavern for the first time alone. 

But he also knew Anne was the most beautiful girl in the room and he was eager to show her off to all the other regulars that night. 

Thanks to their errand, they were the last of the group to arrive. Julia and Lily pulled at Anne’s sleeve, hauling her to their bench in the booth. Peter laughed at Gilbert’s scowl. The friends asked over their week. Hugh wondered how long the journey would be for Anne tomorrow.

“I’m not going home tomorrow,” Anne said with a delicate blush. “Gilbert and I have made a decision!” She reached across the table to take his hand. “We’re not going to wait. We’re going to take our lives into our own hands and carve out a future for ourselves now and we’re going to do it together!” Gilbert thought he fell a degree more in love with her from the passion in her voice alone. 

The two other girls gasped. “Is this an elopement!” Julia squeaked. 

“It is!” Gilbert said proudly. “Anne’s going to marry me!”

Ralph clapped Gilbert jovially on the back. 

These were the sort of friends who were very good for commiserating with, excellent for a good time, but none of them knew enough about the others’ lives to offer any words of warning.

No one knew Gilbert had two families: a black one and a dead one. 

No one knew Peter’s father was quick to the bottle and quick to throw a punch.

No one knew Lily was actually engaged to her long-dead beau and that she could feel in her bones that she would never love again.

No one knew Ralph’s family still carried the trauma of the pogroms.

No one knew Julia doubted in God and was anxious her family would learn she hadn’t been to church once the entire term. 

No one knew Hugh thought he was worthless.

No one knew what Anne owed the Cuthberts. 

No one knew and so they celebrated. 

More than a bit drunk, Lily leaned down to speak into Anne’s hear. “I’m so jealous of you, it makes me sick,” she said with a laugh as she pulled away to address the table at large. “I’ll offer you my wedding dress because you’re a nice girl and It’s so pretty. It should see the light of day!”

“Wedding dress, Lil?” Peter scoffed. “You’re not a bride.”

Lily leaned across the table, something about the way she turned her sweet features made her look a bit rabid. “I was going to be married, too,” she nearly slurred. “But he died!” She cooed, a dreadful smile fixed on her face. “Dead, dead, dead! Dead boy! Couldn’t save him!” They all looked amongst themselves, very unused to this sort of outburst from their friend who was usually the picture of normalcy. “He looked a bit like you,” she said with drunken thoughtfulness, pointing her chin towards Gilbert. 

His eyes went wide. He did not want to be a part of this. Not with Anne at the table to witness it. What would she say to this? Gilbert dreaded the type of conversation this was sure to lead to when they got back to the hotel. 

“But his eyes were green,” Lily said with a pout as she laid her head on the table. “And the nose was… different.” Lily turned suddenly to Julia. “I’m going to be an old maid!” She said with feigned enthusiasm.

Peter turned to the three other men. “Who’s the least drunk between the four of us? Got to be you, Gil. You were here last. Take Lily home.”

“I don’t want to go home, I want more of this!” Lily pulled Hugh’s beer towards her. Julia’s small hand moved to cover the drink so Lily couldn’t take a sip.

“I can’t be the one to take Lily. I can’t leave Anne here alone.”

“Well, she’s not alone. The rest of us are here,” Peter said shortly. 

Sensing this was a lost battle, Gilbert stood from the booth with a sigh. Anne watched him, half-drunk herself, wide-eyed. He pressed a kiss into her hair and told her he’d be back for her right away.  
  
As Anne stood to let Lily leave, she reached around to tug on his sleeve. “But how long, do you think?”

“Not sure,” he said with a squeeze of her hand. “I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

Gilbert and Lily began the slow trek to her boarding house. Lily continuously tripped over her toes. She stopped to laugh at a statue of Prince Albert. She cried against a wall more than once, Gilbert giving her space.

As she pulled away from the brick wall of the bakery, she pointed a finger towards Gilbert, sneering. “Don’t you go and die on Anne,” she warned him. “No wars, no… no influenza wards. If you die, she might not be able to take it,” she told him, finger still waving. “I can’t take it.” Her lower lip quivered, her hand falling. “I can’t take it,” she repeated. Gilbert took a few steps closer to her. “I nursed him, but I couldn’t save him,” she said as tears ran down her face. “Couldn’t save him, and they wouldn’t let me see him in the end. Couldn’t go to the funeral ‘cause I’d caught the fever. Couldn’t save him.”

Hesitantly he reached a hand out to her shoulder. She stepped into his chest without prompting. Awkwardly, he wrapped an arm around her, some part of his mind still worried somehow Anne would come to know about this, innocent as it was, and it would hurt her.

“You really do look like him,” she said after a moment. She gazed up at him, cheeks flushed and wet with tears. It made for a strange picture: here was every other man’s idea of the most beautiful girl in the world in a way no one would ever think to imagine her, twisted up with sadness and shame. “Can I pretend you’re Sam for a minute?” She whispered. “Give him a kiss goodbye?”

Gilbert felt his stomach tie up in uncomfortable knots. He hated to see her suffer, it was true, but he had to be able to look Anne in the eye. So he said: “I’m sorry, Lily, no. It wouldn’t be right.”

She stepped away from him then and wiped her face with her sleeve. She pretended to be more sober than she was and began her march anew. In silence they approached the front steps of her boarding house. Suddenly, she turned on her heel to face Gilbert.

“Tell Anne to come tomorrow after lunch. She’s got to get the dress.”

What had been a forty-five minute walk going there was a twenty minute walk back. The tavern had mostly cleared and so had his table. All that was left of the original group were Anne and Hugh, sat silently across from one another. 

“What happened?” Gilbert called as he approached the table. “Where’s everyone else? They said they’d wait.”

Anne shrugged. “They said they were tired and had to be up early.”

“But what if Hugh had to leave? They’d just leave you here alone?” He was in disbelief.

Hugh coughed to clear his voice. “I wouldn’t leave her by herself. Nothing to worry about,” he said softly. 

Gilbert sat down again in the booth and shook the man’s hand. “Thank you, Hugh. We owe you one.”

“It’s nothing. I’ve got to head home now, too, though. Have a nice night. Let me know when the wedding ceremony will be. I’ll make time to be there.”

The three stood from the table. Gilbert offered his arm to Anne as Hugh hurried off. 

As they walked out into the night air Gilbert prepared himself for Anne’s questions.

And as they walked out into the night air Anne worked hard to stifle the questions she wanted to ask, tried to put out the fires of worry that were stoked by her alcohol-addled brain and her own faltering self-esteem. 

Gilbert only found the silence unnerving, and so he offered up his own interpretation of the evening. 

“Poor Lily,” he began carefully. “She really loved her beau. It must be very difficult to lose a true love so early in life.”

There was a moment’s silence. “Poor Lily,” Anne finally echoed. 

Gilbert bit his lip, unsure what she meant by this. Lucky for him, Anne’s will power was rather thin for this sort of thing. She took a step in front of him and turned to face him head on, stopping him in his tracks. 

She turned her head to either side, letting him inspect her angles. “You think I’m pretty, don’t you?”

“I always tell you you’re beautiful,” was his careful reply.

She grabbed hold of his shoulders. “No, I mean pretty like Lily is,” she explained. “Pretty.” He opened his mouth to respond. “Wait,” she held up a hand. “Before you speak you need to be reminded, because I think you forget, every girl you’ve ever known, ever, wants to look like Lily.”

He wished she hadn’t said that. Of course she didn’t look like Lily! She had red, almost auburn, hair, fading freckles, and pale eyes. Lily had brown hair and eyes that matched like they were painted by the same artist’s brush. She stood a head taller than Anne to boot. Where there was softness in Anne’s face, there were angles on Lily’s. He hadn’t spent all that much time studying her, but from what he’d seen, the expressions Anne most frequently wore, or excitement and earnestness, were never seen on Lily. 

He loved Anne for her excitement and her earnestness. 

Perhaps he should pretend to be truly drunk?

“I don’t want to talk about that,” he finally said. He turned Anne around so she’d face the correct direction and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Want to hear all the things that are beautiful about you?”

Anne wrinkled her nose. “Marilla says I’m vain.”

“Well who could blame you!”

Anne looked at him with a smirk. “You’re drunk!”

Perhaps a bit. “Maybe,” he said cheekily. 

She sighed.“I always hoped I would make a beautiful bride. Maybe we should have waited a couple of years. Then my hair might be auburn, and perhaps if I stay out of the sun, some more freckles will fade, and my figure might improve—“

“I wonder,” he said pointedly. “When I will finally find the right combination of words to convince you you’re beautiful and I wouldn’t change you. Can you tell me when?”

“Yes,” she said thoughtfully. “Drunk. You’re drunk.” She stopped again and turned her face towards the stars. “Gilbert is drunk!” She called loudly.

“Shut it!” “It’s after midnight, you fool!” “For feck’s sake!” All came billowing from the open windows of the houses around them. 

Anne bent over at the waist, shaking with laughter. When she had settled down, she looped her arm through Gilbert’s and practically had them skipping down the road. 

“I’m sorry I ask you hard questions, but think of them like a test!”

“A test?”

“Yes. I’ve got to know what you think now because time’s almost up!”

“On what?”

She shrugged. “Didn’t think this through…” she muttered.

“Anne?”

“I just have to know for certain you won’t wish you held out for someone better. You are young.”

Again he bit his lip. “If I tell you something, can you stay calm until I’m finished speaking? You won’t want to stay calm, but will you do it anyway?”

Again, she shrugged, unwilling to commit. He was reminded of the first time she’d come to him in the orchard, where he’d asked her to promise to believe him when he told her she was beautiful. She couldn’t commit then, either. 

And, like before, he would speak anyway. 

“I took Lily home,” he began with a deep breath. “She was very upset. She told me she nursed her fiancé but she wasn’t allowed to be at his bedside when he ultimately passed. She told me again that I look like her fiancé. She asked me…”

“She asked you what?” Anne tugged on his arm, urging you on.

“She asked if she could pretend I was her Sam and kiss me goodbye.”

Anne let her hand fall from his arm, her mouth falling open. Distress was written all of her face, but she stayed quiet. 

Gilbert was unsure how to frame the big conclusion. “I told her no,” he said simply.

“Why?” She asked, voice hoarse.

“Why?” He repeated, amazed.

“Why did you tell her no? What was your reason?”  
  
Anne saw how his eyebrows curled together that way they do when he thinks he’s explaining the obvious. “Because I don’t want to kiss any woman other than you. And I don’t want to look you in the eye and know I’ve done something that would hurt you.”

“Hmmm,” she said. She would need to get better at giving Gilbert easy exits out of her wrath. As it stood now, even a perfect answer still left her in a bit of a mood, unsure how to change the subject 

He nudged her. “How about you?”

“What?”

“What are the odds you’ll wake up one day and wish you hadn’t married a fool like me?”

“A fool like you?” She repeated. “I’m marrying this very fool.” She jabbed her index finger into his chest a couple of times to make her point. He smiled a bit at her playfulness but urged her towards a real answer.

“Don’t you go betting on it,” she warned him, her speech slurred. “You’ll lose everything we ever had because the odds are zero.”

He could be happy with that. Perhaps he was coming to realize that Anne wore her truth on her face.

Anne had surely come to understand the very same of Gilbert. Perhaps, she considered, if she could just hang on to that thought, there needn’t be any melodramatics. Perhaps if she could just trust that he said the truth as much as he wore the truth on his face, they could get on with things in peace.

But Anne was drunk and Gilbert was too. And hard won understandings are so quickly abandoned in youth. Perhaps a melodrama is as good as any other form of theatrics. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be the first to admit this is a little bit of a filler chapter. This story is going to come to a close in the next couple of chapters and I'll pick it up in a part two of the series.
> 
> I hope this holds you over! We'll be seeing a very ill-advised elopement soon!


	27. Chapter 27

The gown was made of expensive crocheted lace. Lily explained hers was to be a summer garden wedding, delayed again and again as their families came to an understanding over the details of a marriage between a couple of mixed-religion.

Put off until it was too late. 

Lily fussed over the gown as she spoke of her Sam, rocking subtly back and forth, the same way she did as she attempted to memorize her anatomy lessons, her body swaying as she practically chanted. 

“Sam was three years older than me. I’m older now than he ever lived to be. He was a medical student at Columbia. He was going to specialize in psychiatric medicine. He would squint his left eye in the sun and he signed all of his letters ‘dreadfully sorry I’m not there to tell you myself, my darling and lovely Lily.’ And Sam…”

Lily went on like this and Anne listened carefully. She had the distinct feeling that Lily had never spoken these things aloud before. Several times the thought: “this woman wanted my fiancé” came to Anne’s mind like waves, ebbing and flowing in their turn. Anne tried not to dwell on the thought as she did feel a remarkable amount of sympathy standing there, listening to Lily’s voice… a beat without a melody. But it was difficult to put aside all the same. 

“Did you always want to be a doctor?” Anne asked lightly at a break in the chant.

Lily looked at her in a peculiar way. “No,” she said. “No. I’ll be a doctor for Sam.”

Anne nodded, feeling a bit uncomfortable. She realized that this was something she could have easily handled perhaps just a year ago, could have offered up some truth that could stand to ease Lily’s aloneness, but now it seemed there are some things souls must brave alone. 

Anne watched Lily’s eyes dart over to her desk. “I’ll be a doctor for Sam,” she heard Lily mutter again.

“Are you feeling all right, Lily?”

The girl turned back to Anne. “No,” she said simply, without expression. Anne opened her mouth, but nothing came out. “He was the clever one. I can hardly believe I’m here. I was raised… demurely? Perhaps that’s the word? But I think to myself: ‘we won’t always have to bury our sweethearts. Perhaps I can make myself useful.’”

Anne touched her hand. “You could save someone so much pain.”

“Yes. But who is going to save me? Up you go, Anne, I’ve hemmed it as best I can.”

Anne moved to stand in front of Lily’s full length mirror. “It’s lovely, but I’ll confess: I always imagined I’d wear puff sleeves.”

Lily gave a small smile. “Me, too, but my mother insists they’ll be out of style before 1900 rolls around, and you don’t want to look back and regret, do you?”

While Anne preened, Gilbert had gone to request the service’s of the University’s rector. Reverend Christopher Knightley was an import from England, and Church of England through and through, though he would beg you not to remind his employer, as he was supposed to be non-denominational in spirit while he served Toronto’s students and faculty. 

A man in early middle age, Rev. Knightley had seen his fair share of enamored adolescents come knocking on his door the morning after an inebriated night out and a month of knowing one another requesting he officiate their wedding and he do it as soon as it was convenient for him. 

And here, it would seem, was another. 

In the name of keeping his job, Rev. Knightley extended a hand to the young man that stood at his office door. The lad introduced himself as Blythe.

“And where have you been, Blythe? I haven’t seen you here before.”

Gilbert felt the tips of his ears become hot. “I’m Presbyterian,” he offered in explanation. 

“All right,” Rev. Knightley sighed as he took a seat. “So where’s the girl? And the license?”

“Oh,” Gilbert said, reaching into his bag and pulling out a thick piece of paper, handing it across the table. Rev. Knightley looked it over.

“And the girl?” He repeated.

“Anne is getting her dress,” Gilbert said. 

Rev. Knightley frowned. “I don’t usually do this without both parties present.”

“She would be here, but we’re very short on time,” Gilbert told him. “She has to be on a train tomorrow afternoon.”

“I see?” Said the reverend, no longer attempting to hide his disbelief. “And was she in town for long?”

“For the Thanksgiving holiday,” Gilbert told him.

“Rather a short time to get to know one’s wife,” the reverend commented. 

“What?”

“I just mean, what’s a week to the rest of your life?”

Gilbert’s eyebrows pulled together. “Anne and I grew up together. We’re neighbors back home on Prince Edward Island. I asked her to marry me in June.”

Rev. Knightley let out an incredulous laugh. “That’s different!” He called.

“What do you mean? I would have supposed that’s a fairly common sort of love story.”

“Not common around these parts!” Rev. Knightley replied jovially. “The last lad who came through that door still had liquor on his breath and the lady looked as though she had a decade and a half on him.”

“Oh,” was all Gilbert managed. “But would you be open to marrying Anne and I? She’ll be a student here in January. We just want to tie up this loose end now as we have the opportunity.”

“It’s looking like the odds are in your favor. I always ask, though, so no complaints can get filed and come my way: what about your parents?”

Gilbert bit his lip for a moment, unable to resist the urge to be short. “Dead.” 

“All four? Between the two of you?”

Gilbert would consider this a small fib. “Yes.”

Rev. Knightley clapped his hands together once and stood up once more. “All right, that will do!” He offered his hand to Gilbert once more.

“When would work well for you?” Gilbert asked.

“You say she’s leaving tomorrow afternoon? Why, I have some time around 10:30 tomorrow.”

Gilbert shook his head, trying to push the absurdity of it all from his mind. His wedding was as good as an appointment with the dentist!

He shook on it anyway. 

He left the chapel with a strange disgruntled feeling. He couldn’t quite understand it: he’d just arranged to be married to the girl of his dreams! Anne would be his wife in less than a day!

And on a train a few hours later…

And there it was, the truth of it all. What a cad he was, but he mourned the loss of a proper wedding night. 

_But there will be time for that_ , Gilbert reminded himself. _We’ll have a flat to ourselves in January, and surely she’ll move in with me at Christmas?_

But that hadn’t been discussed in so many words. 

_Wives move in with their husbands!_ he assured himself. _Anne must know that._

He pushed that from his mind, too, as he approached Lily’s boarding house, ready to gather Anne and walk with her to the florist. He didn’t have much money left, but he’d be damned if after all this time waiting and loving her he didn’t let Anne have at least a bouquet on her wedding day. 

When she came down the steps, he took the large white box from her hands and tucked it under his arm. They ordered chrysanthemums and daisies.

Anne frowned to herself when Gilbert’s back was turned. How she had always dreamed of peonies tied in chains decorating pews, lilacs on each of the tables at the reception, and a bouquet of lavender and Queen Anne’s lace in her hand! 

But she put that from her mind. 

She and Gilbert had agreed to be separated the night before the wedding, a tradition they felt they could cling to despite the unusual circumstances. Once they reached the hotel room Gilbert set the box gently on the desk and retreated quickly back to the door. They stood across from one another in the entryway, one of her hands in both of his, both unsure what to say.

“Are you sure?” She said quietly. 

Gilbert nodded and pressed a kiss to her hand. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he whispered. 

With that he was gone. Anne closed the door and took a few moments to focus on her breathing. It was like that morning at Aunt Jo’s all over again. Somehow she had to _decide_ she was _sure._ She had now until 10:30 tomorrow morning. She began to pace. 

_I’m an adult woman_ , she told herself. _Here is my moment to inhabit myself completely. To choose. Here I am, halfway between my husband and my parents and it’s my job to choose. I can choose._

Over and over she told herself this. What had she done that last time? Oh, yes.

_This is the moment of decision_ , she thought. _I am deciding I want to marry Gilbert tomorrow. The moment of decision is in the past. I have decided. I’ll marry Gilbert tomorrow._

But it didn’t feel as it had that day in Charlottetown, try as she might. Where was the feeling of ecstasy? Where was the rapture? 

She frowned in frustration, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. She looked over to her desk. Perhaps she couldn’t will herself to be certain of her impending wedding, but she could write Gilbert a letter. She could recite whatever dull vows the preacher but forward for her to repeat, and she could press the letter into Gilbert’s hand and he could read it as they stood there. Perhaps that would be enough. 

She moved the box with the wedding dress and sat down to write.

_My sweet and enduring friend,_

_Today you are taking a chance and you are taking me to be your wife. You’ve painted a beautiful picture of what are lives be like together, my faith is in you to treat me with kindness and respect. I promise to do the same._

_How strange, but I’m short on words. What could I say that would be poignant enough and true enough? What words are there for the boy who offered to slay dragons for me? What words are there for the man he became, so endlessly good?_

_I love you._

_Your liege woman of life and limb,_

_Anne_

Morning came with a panic and a knock on the door. 

She woke up surrounded by white ceramic on a bed of throw pillows. So she’d made herself her bathtub nest again, though she hardly remembered how or when. Without a window in the bathroom, Anne was unsure what time it was. She rose slowly from the tub, donning her dressing gown, and answered the door. 

The bellboy handed her the bouquet of chrysanthemums and daisies. She thanked him quietly and closed the door, turning to the clock.

She felt sick as she realized she only had an hour before she had to leave to walk to the University chapel.

How lonesome she felt as she pinned her hair into place! She wondered what other bride was preparing herself alone that day. Surely there was someone else? She sent the girl, whoever she may be, love and goodwill. She hardly managed the buttons on the back of the light summer dress, but eventually she was pulling her arms through her wool coat, grabbing hold of the bouquet and her letter for Gilbert. 

The elevator attendant made a bit of a face as she stepped on, but they both remained quiet. Of course it was an absurd scene. Though Lily had made an attempt to hem the dress, it was still so clearly made for another bride, one of greater size than Anne. And with the navy blue peacoat hanging loosely on top of it? And a less than splendid hairstyle? Why, Anne felt like a child playing dress up who quit halfway through.

She kept her eyes straight ahead as she walked quickly through the streets of Toronto, the day cold. She tried to cheer herself up, thinking the cold breeze would give her an attractive blush. 

There was no one to greet her once she’d reached the chapel. The clock told her it was 10:20. She supposed promptness was appreciated at these types of things? She hung her coat on a rack by the door and took a seat on a leather armchair, her feet not quite reaching the floor, simply waiting for 10:30. 

10:30 came but nothing came with it. Had she believed there would be a wedding march? At 10:31 she dared open the door that lead into the main chapel, poking her head through.

Gilbert stood at the altar wringing his hands in nervous anticipation. There were 47 seconds where he feared she wouldn’t come. But then there was a speck of red. Their eyes met as she poked her head through.

He knew he was grinning like a moron. Idiotically, He raised his hand high in greeting. She smiled back and matched his gesture. He couldn’t help but laugh. His friends in the pews did, too. Soon she was opening the door wider and beginning her trek to him. There was a moment where she stumbled over her too-long gown. 

Within a second he had decided that, since they were not having a traditional wedding, he may as well make as thoroughly untraditional as possible. He left his spot and hurried down the aisle to walk her the rest of the way. She smiled as he offered her his arm, making it possible to pull her skirts enough that she could walk safely. 

They took their spots in front of Rev. Knightley. The time came when the officiant asked the bridegroom if he’d prepared vows.

“None to say aloud,” Gilbert replied, reaching for his the pocket of his Sunday best jacket. “But this is for Anne to read.”

Anne nearly collapsed in on herself at the thought that Gilbert had written her, just as she had done him, and he didn’t even know it yet. Anne handed him her own letter and he squeezed her hand.

“We’ll still need some spoken vows,” the reverend reminded them.

“We’ll get there,” Gilbert said. “Let me just read what she’s written me.”

“Yes,” Anne agreed, unfolding the note. 

_My only love,_

_What a blessing it is to be writing this to you. Take these words with you on the train. Read them in Charlottetown. Show them to your family. Show them to mine. I’m proud to write these words. I’m proud to be your husband._

_I think of all the times I wrote to you: ‘my beautiful girl, my wife some fantastic day.’ And here it is, unfolding before us. And I think of all the years I’ve known you and loved you, and how I know you’re my home. My best friend, my true love. I like you and I love you and I am endlessly fond of you. I’ll do everything I can to make a creature as exquisite as yourself happy._

_I promise to be kind and I promise to listen._

_I thank God for you._

_Your liege man of life and limb,_

_Gilbert_

Anne allowed herself a moment to cry quietly at his words, patting at her face when the reverend made it clear they should continue.

They said their proscribed vows, Anne scrunching her nose as she promised to obey her new husband. It only took a minute or two, and then they were wed. 

Their five guests cheered as Gilbert kissed Anne on the cheek, and then pecked her lips. 

And then it was done. The train left in an hour. Gilbert and Anne hurried back to the hotel, packed up her things, and they parted for two months more.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Please know I posted a chapter tonight before this! Please don't skip chapter 27!

Gilbert’s smile never faltered. He hummed as he took his seat at the breakfast table, the other young men nursing hangovers. He spread jam across his toast as the post was passed around. Gilbert had with him a letter to Bash explaining the happy circumstances, ready to be posted. 

“For you, Mr. Blythe,” said the landlady as she handed him a telegram. Thinking perhaps grandad had written with more details about their arrangement, Gilbert tore the envelope open.

DEAR GILBERT,

I AM SO ENDLESSLY SORRY. I CANNOT TELL MARILLA AND MATTHEW THAT WE ELOPED. I CANNOT LOOK THEM IN THE EYE AND HURT THEM THAT WAY.

CAN WE GO BACK TO HOW IT WAS BEFORE? 

PLEASE FORGIVE ME.

ANNE

Gilbert was despondent, his breathing irregular. The other men at the table saw it all happen.

One fellow pulled the telegram from his hands. Gilbert vaguely heard him read it aloud. He looked up from his plate.

Some men laughed, others booed.

Eventually it was Bobby Anderson who spoke. “Well Blythe,” he began, pulling a flask from his vest and pouring the liquor into his tea. “Varium et mutabile, semper femina.” He raised his tea cup, and the other men did the same. “Semper femina!” Bobby called as a toast.

“Semper femina!” Called the rest of the men.

Gilbert rose from the table and snatched the telegram back. He trudged up to the stairs to his room, as numb as he could make himself. 

He reached for his Latin to English dictionary. He found a pencil and paper and set to work translating.

Within a couple of minutes he had a finished product.

FICKLE AND CHANGEABLE ARE WOMEN ALWAYS

He wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay everybody! We did it! It's done... or at least this part is. 
> 
> I know this is a harsh ending, but the muses are harsh mistresses.
> 
> The story will pick up with a part two, which I'm calling Fickle and Changeable
> 
> I hope to see you there!


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